Silence in the Library
by hufflepuffs anonymous
Summary: "What do you want Malfoy?" "Me? Nothing at all. I was merely perusing the entirety of the library when I stumbled upon a fellow student about to break a school rule and out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to educate them on their misdemeanour," he responded nonchalantly pulling books from shelves at random. (Hogwarts and Post-Hogwarts, EWE, M for a reason)
1. Chapter 1

Here I go again. This fic will be updated slower than _Probation_, but I have about a third of it done already, and holidays are fast approaching! As per usual reviews are welcome and encouraged. I will only reply to fanfic users through PM as I like to keep author's notes short and sweet (or non existant). That being said, all reviews are appreciated, but if you want an answer please log in. Also, alerts about typos are always helpful!

This story was started several years ago and I decided to pick it up and give it a try. Then NaNoWriMo came along and I wrote a second part to it because I was having writer block for part one, so you may notice that when you get to part two (which as things stand right now will be substantially longer than part one) that the tone is a little different. Hopefully this will change through editing and such forth, but let me know if they completely don't mesh.

One last thing, I really wanted to do a POC Potter story, so in this story Hermione is half-black half-white and Harry is Indian. A few other characters' races have been changed, but this is not the main purpose of the story, mostly I just think that Hermione's bushy hair always reminded me of stereotypical 'black' hair. Race will play a role in this, but more so to draw the parallel that JK did through blood status and racism.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Silence in the Library

Part One

Chapter 1: Banned

Professor Dumbledore sat watching the four long tables in front of him filling up with groggy students. He raised his eyes from the sight before him to look at the woman who had taken a seat to his left. Dumbledore inclined his head as his Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, took her seat.

"Good morning Albus," she said after retrieving a napkin and spreading it across her lap.

"Minerva," Dumbledore greeted. "You're rather late this morning."

"I had to get up four times last night to quiet the party that was happening in the Gryffindor common room," she replied irritably, "I only slept for four hours!"

"My sympathies, Minerva. I was also up late, but I was merely star-gazing, a long-forgotten pastime of mine. I thought I heard some sort of ruckus from my perch in the astronomy tower, but I assumed it was Peeves playing another silly joke of his."

"I wouldn't exactly call his pranks 'silly,'" replied McGonagall tartly.

"It's all in good fun I am sure," replied Dumbledore jovially and he returned his gaze to the slowly growing crowd of students in his Great Hall.

Every student entering the Great Hall was sleepily clad in some odd combination of their house uniform and their pyjamas, with the odd exception; Hermione Granger was dressed in a pair of jeans and a long, unflattering maroon sweater, her hair a tangled mess about her face.

Hermione had a book propped up against her pumpkin juice and was fervently reading while simultaneously nibbling on a large piece of buttered toast. She paused for a moment and bit her lip then glanced up from her book. Looking down just as quickly, she turned the page and continued to read.

The bench beside her groaned as several students filled its emptiness. "Morning, Hermione," said a tall freckled pale skinned young man.

"Good morning Ron," Hermione replied without looking up from her book. "Good morning Harry," she said as a black haired Indian boy with glasses sat across from her.

"Good morning," replied Harry.

Ron helped himself to a massive spoonful of hash browns and bacon and began shovelling food into his mouth without further ado. Hermione shut her book and regarded him in disgust. "Honestly Ronald, could you at least _chew_?"

Harry laughed at her comment and helped himself to a massive portion of food. Hermione rolled her eyes and stowed her book in her bag by her feet. She looked down the bench to see who else had joined them. Ginny sat beside Harry with Dean on her other side, Neville and Seamus sat beside Ron, and Parvati and Lavender sat on Harry's other side with their heads already close together in deep discussion. They were probably talking about whom hooked up with whom at last night's party. Hermione shook her head and tried to engage Harry in a conversation, but he was already in deep discussion with Ginny and Dean about Quidditch.

Returning to her toast, she thought how she had been having more fun before anyone had come along. If she were to continue to read now, she'd never hear the end of it;_ Hermione always has her nose in a book, she can't even eat without reading, what a loser_, etc. Pansy Parkinson never missed an opportunity to point out her lack of social skills and love of books. Thinking of Pansy Hermione's gaze wandered over to the Slytherin table across the Great Hall.

Automatically recognising Crabbe and Goyle's meaty figures, she easily pinpointed where Pansy was sitting, or rather, leaning. She had her head on Draco Malfoy's shoulder trying to get his attention. Malfoy didn't seem too encouraging and kept leaning away from her. Pansy, not being the fastest broom in the cupboard, didn't take the hint.

Hermione trained her gaze on Malfoy's. He hadn't changed much over the years. He was still a prat to everyone around him and a muggleborn hater. He was still as pale as a ghost, still had white-blond hair and he still wore only the finest robes. However, he seemed to be a lot skinnier than before and had dark bags under his eyes. As Hermione watched he pushed away his full plate and extricated himself from the bench and Pansy's overzealous attempts at flirting with little difficulty.

Malfoy headed toward the massive oak doors, for once without his muscular cronies. As he neared the door he glanced at the Gryffindor table, most likely to send a sneer their way, but instead his eyes landed on Hermione's and he held them there for a prolonged second. Hermione broke eye contact first, looking at her plate of half eaten toast with a slight blush rising in her cheeks. When she looked up again Malfoy was gone.

_That was embarrassing_.

Ron, having successfully finished his first plate of food, began on seconds. During the short lull of him not having his mouth stuffed full he asked, "So, Hermione have you done Snape's Essay on non-verbal spells?"

"Yes I have Ron, and I will not be giving you my answers," she paused and eyed Harry who had been listening in on the conversation, "nor you, Harry. So you'll have to just suck it up and do your homework or suffer the consequences."

"Muh, Mur-mi-me," complained Ron through a mouthful of food.

"I said no, Ron. I am off to the library. I will see you all later this evening in the common room," replied Hermione curtly before grabbing her bag and exiting the Great Hall.

Dumbledore watched her leave and sighed.

"Anything the matter Albus?" inquired Professor Sprout who was sitting to the right of him.

Dumbledore stayed silent for a moment before responding, "No, nothing Professor Sprout. I think I am going to take a walk along the lake. Enjoy the rest of your meal," and with that Dumbledore swept out of the hall as well.

xxx

Hermione dropped her pile of books onto the table with a very audible thump. Madame Pince, the frail old librarian, poked her head around a corner and scowled pointedly at Hermione for making so much noise.

"Sorry," she squeaked out in response.

Madame Pince merely shook her head and disappeared from view, more than likely going to re-shelve some books or return to her immaculate desk and gaze of into space hoping that someone will make noise so that she can yell at them.

She arranged the books to sit to the left of her in a pile taller than her when she sat down. She removed the first book from the pile and opened it. It was entitled _Rare Magical Potions_ and once opened, she was greeted with the musty smell of a book that hadn't seen the light of day in several years. This was one of her favourite smells, ranking among her top ten, some of which included parchment, freshly cut grass, and cologne. Settling in, Hermione began to read the introduction.

Madame Pince returned to her desk and gazed at the silent library in satisfaction. She looked up at the plaque above the entrance that read: PERFORMING MAGIC IS PROHIBITED IN THE LIBRARY. Making sure her magic sensor was working properly she leaned back in her chair and began reading _Cauldron of Love_, her favourite Magicquin romance.

Two hours later Madame Pince inspected the silence of her library again and noted that Hermione was one of the only students left. Her magic sensor went off and she jumped from her seat looking for the culprit.

Madame Pince hurried past Hermione who was reading in the same spot. The pile of books on her left had significantly decreased, while a new pile of read books had been formed to her right.

A blonde sat in front of her as she closed her second last book. "Hullo Luna," Hermione greeted.

"Hullo Hermione," Luna responded in her dreamy voice. "I didn't see you at breakfast this morning."

"Oh, I left pretty early because Ron was being repulsive, as usual."

"It is quite revolting to watch him eat," agreed Luna. Hermione laughed quietly in response and Madame Pince appeared from behind another bookshelf and glared at them. _Where does she keep coming from?_

"Sorry," both girls mumbled. Once Madame Pince had disappeared they broke into silent fits of giggles.

"How are things Luna?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"Not too well. My textbooks have gone missing again. I suspect it was the nargals."

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione asked, "Would you like some help finding them?"

"Well, I suppose you could help me put up some missing posters. They haven't helped much in the past though... I don't think nargals can read, do you?"

Ignoring that last question, Hermione asked, "Do you have the posters with you now?"

"No, I left them in my dorm. But I can go and get them if you'd like to wait here."

"Of course Luna, I'll just return these books; I should be done by the time you get back. I'll meet you outside the library doors."

Hermione waved farewell to Luna and began piling her books back into an enormous pile. She lifted them—with difficulty—and brought her pile to the nearest book shelf. Hermione always pitied Luna; she was quite nice, but no one could see past her strangeness and often picked on her because of it. _Nargals? Honestly._

Placing the pile of precariously balanced books on the small counter jutting out of the bookshelf, Hermione located the third book in the stack and put it back in its proper spot. Carrying on in this fashion she reached a secluded nook of the library that was seldom ever ventured into.

Her pile of books had diminished to three small ones, the last of which she was going to sign out, not having read it yet. However, they were the books that had taken the longest to get out because they were near the ceiling and if Madame Pince caught you using magic she would kick you out of the library for a week. _Now where is that step ladder? _The small school issued and approved step ladder that was supposed to be used for exactly this reason was nowhere in sight.

So Hermione gazed up at the top of the shelf four feet away and tried to come up with a solution for this problem. Glancing about her, Hermione decided to risk using a levitation charm instead of risking falling from the bookshelf, or worse toppling it while trying to reach the top. Madame Pince would kick her out of the library for good if one of her precious books fell.

Hermione looked round again to make sure that no one was in sight and raised her wand. She began to swish it, but before she could flick a throat was cleared quietly behind her. Among the hush of the books, it sounded like an explosion. Clutching her heart and getting ready to be reprimanded and thrown from the library by Madame Pince, Hermione turned around.

"You gave me quite the fright Madame Pin…" Hermione trailed off—it was not Madame Pince.

"Doing magic in the library is against school rules, Miss Granger," said the blond mockingly. He had his wand pointed lazily in her direction

Hermione stood frozen to the spot. Her brain was trying to navigate the best way out of this situation. She could run, but would he use his wand? They both knew how to do non-verbal spells, so they wouldn't be heard. She could fight, but if Madame Pince showed up it was "good bye library." _Think…_ she ordered herself. _Or I could talk my way out of this_; _I am the smartest witch of my year_.

"Malfoy," Hermione responded as she tried to scoot around him, but he didn't move, in fact he took a step closer.

Hermione panicked and began backing up while weighing the pros and cons of using her wand. On one hand she could easily dispose of the over-confident blond, on the other she would have to spend every evening for the next week with Harry and Ron, and that was just too much mindlessness for her to handle.

Malfoy stopped advancing toward her and began toying with his wand. "Madame Pince hardly ever makes it to this back corner of the library," he commented as he read the spines of the books on the shelf beside him.

"I'm sure you already know that," Hermione smiled remembering that she had a non-violent way out of this situation after all. "What do you want Malfoy?"

"Me? Nothing at all. I was merely perusing the entirety of the library when I stumbled upon a fellow student about to break a school rule and out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to educate them on their misdemeanour," he responded nonchalantly pulling books from shelves at random.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, you're not here for another rendezvous?" Malfoy froze at her words, but continued pretending to read the book he had pulled.

"I do not know what you're talking about," he replied stiffly.

"Really?" Hermione asked confidently advancing toward the end of the aisle. "I must have been mistaken, then. It must have been the other ghostly pale, blond haired, arrogant git—"

Hermione was cut off by Malfoy forcing her against the bookshelf, hands on her shoulders. Hermione's wand fell to the ground and her hands were braced against the counter that jutted out from the bookshelf. Her pile of books had been jarred from her impact and were now balanced precariously on the edge of the counter. For someone who looked like death warmed over, he sure had a strong grip.

He leaned down toward her face threateningly. "You saw nothing."

Trying to mask her shaking, she said with false bravado, "Really, to me to it looked awfully like—"

"You. Saw. Nothing," he reiterated angrily, shaking her for emphasis.

"I know what I saw Malfoy. Now let me go or I'll…"

"What? Tell on me? Please, what are you, a first year?"

"I'm sure no one wants to know what you get up to in the library after hours, so just let me leave and none will be the wiser," Hermione said while surreptitiously trying to locate her wand.

Malfoy laughed quietly, "The second I let you go you'll run off to Madame Pince like the goody two shoes you are."

"I could have told her already, but I haven't," retorted Hermione harshly, "Now if you wouldn't mind…" Hermione tried to sidle out of his grip, but Malfoy held on tighter.

After a moment of silence, intensified by the stillness of the library, Malfoy asked, "You haven't told anyone? Not even Weaselbee or Pothead?"

"I just said I hadn't why—"

"Why not?" he inquired leaning closer and staring into her eyes. His hands had slackened slightly against her shoulders from his curiosity. He no longer looked menacing and Hermione decided this was her chance.

Hermione began struggling with renewed effort against his grip. "Malfoy let me go!" she demanded.

With little difficulty he kept her restrained. After a moment Hermione stopped struggling and glared at him.

"Did you like what you saw Granger?" he asked with an eyebrow raised suggestively.

"You disgust me," Hermione sneered.

"Are you trying to sneer? Because it looks more like a—"

"Hermione?" came a whispered voice from a few shelves away. They both froze and snapped their heads toward the end of the aisle. Hermione smiled in relief while Malfoy cursed his bad luck.

Malfoy immediately let go of her shoulders and straightened his immaculate robes. He pocketed his wand and grabbed the book from the top of her pile in order to feign innocence should he be caught. Without looking at Hermione again he hastily exited the scene of the crime.

Hermione took a few deep breaths and shook her head. _Thank you, Luna. _Her name was called again from a shelf away. She stood up and straightened her robes and cursed under her breath when she noticed what book Malfoy had taken; the one she had wanted to sign out. "Git," she mumbled before levitating the books onto their shelf with a _swish and flick_.

"Miss Granger!" shrieked Madame Pince who had entered the aisle the same moment Hermione cast her levitation charm. She was carrying the step ladder, but had promptly dropped it upon seeing Hermione. "There is no magic allowed in the library! Imagine if your spell had gone wrong!" Madame Pince clutched at her heart, "I thought you of all people would think of the books' safety!" She pointed a bony finger at Hermione and shrieked "_Out_!"

_So it's okay for her to raise her voice_, thought Hermione irritably.

"_Out this instant_!" Madame Pince began dragging her toward the door with impressive strength for such a frail old woman. "You are not to enter the library again for another month!"

"_Month_? But Madame Pince—" objected Hermione.

"No buts!"

At that moment Luna entered their aisle. She smiled at Hermione and said loudly, "There you are."

"Miss Lovegood, are you with her?" Madame Pince asked without waiting for a response, "Both of you are banned for a month; I will not have rule breakers in my library! Am I the only one who thinks of the books?"

Hermione and Luna were escorted to the doors of the library by an outraged Madame Pince who continued to reprimand them for their entire journey. When Hermione collected her bag from the table along the way she saw Draco Malfoy sitting in her abandoned seat. He smirked at her triumphantly as she was escorted to the door.

As the doors slammed shut behind her, Hermione began muttering in rage, "_I_ am the one who breaks the rules? _Me_? I wasn't the one who was—URGH! Who does she think she is?"

"It's alright Hermione, it's only one month," Luna said in her infuriatingly calm voice.

"_Only_ one month? I'll be completely behind for my revision schedule! I had everything planned out precisely. The library is the only place that has the resources I need. And what about my essays?"

"Are you still going to help me with my missing posters?" asked Luna before Hermione could finish her tirade.

For the first time since seeing her again, she noticed that Luna had an armful of posters with the bold caption: MISSING! and a list of her textbooks as well as clothing that she couldn't find. Hermione took a deep breath and looked into Luna's dreamy eyes. "Of course, Luna."

They headed up the corridor and as they were turning the corner Hermione saw Draco Malfoy exiting the library with a smug look on his face and _her_ book in his hand.

xxx

Hermione checked to see if the coast was clear. She shivered in drafty castle corridor. She tightened Harry's cloak around her neck and opened the locked doors of the library with a flick of her wrist. She lit her lantern before sliding into the library quietly and closed the doors behind her.

Hermione recast her silencing charm on her feet. She took off the cloak and shoved it into her school bag that was slung across her chest. She began to search for the book that the ferret had stolen from her two weeks ago—he would have had to have returned it by now—in the return bin. She did not find it there and assumed that the old bat must have already returned it to its place on the shelf.

Hermione headed to the far back corner of the library, not noticing the eyes watching her from afar. She reached the aisle and rested her lantern onto the counter. She looked around for a step stool again. _Why are those things never where they're supposed to be?_, she thought with a frustrated sigh. Hermione took off her book bag and placed it onto the little shelf that jutted out of the towering book case. She was just about to hop onto said little shelf when a voice cleared behind her.

"I wouldn't recommend that," it said slowly.

Hermione froze, at first thinking that Filch or his equally sour girlfriend Madame Pince had caught her breaking curfew and breaking into the library. She took and deep breath and turned around. _I'm going to be banned for life_.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of her, _holding _her_ book!_

"These shelves are not meant to be stood on," Malfoy continued, playing with said book that he had absolutely no right to.

"What are you doing here Malfoy? It's after hours."

"I could ask you the same…you're not looking for something are you?" he asked placing the hardcover behind his back.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and drew out her wand, "Give me the book, Malfoy."

They were both whispering, despite the fact that no one would have heard them were they shouting.

"I was under the impression that you were banned from the library for another two weeks, Granger."

"Thanks to you!" she pointed her wand at him more aggressively as sparks shot out of the end.

"Careful, Granger, you know how particular Madame Pince is about performing magic in the library."

"She's not here to stop me from hexing you to next Tuesday."

"Your funeral," he said leaning back against the bookshelf behind him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "You're just trying to trick me because you know that I can beat you in a duel," she said uncertainly.

"Be my guest," he gestured to her wand, "I'll just hang on to this book until the end of the year and you'll be banned until graduation."

"Madame Pince isn't here," she said again. "Unless…" Hermione smacked her forehead. _Of course she has a spell detection charm that will alert her when anyone performs magic in the library._ "I'm not afraid to fight you the Muggle way," she said putting her wand in her robes.

Malfoy chose that moment to step across the short aisle. Hermione took a step back, uncomfortably reminded of the last time he had her pressed up against the book shelf as well as the several dreams that had featured him doing the same thing with a lot less clothing.

"Is that so?" he asked as he towered over her. "Go ahead then, Granger. If you win I'll gladly surrender the book."

Hermione rolled her shoulders, thinking quickly. Her thoughts were interrupted by none other than Argus Filch saying, "Who's there?" in his gravelly voice.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She stood frozen as Malfoy reached for her lantern and put it out silently. He took the lantern in one hand and her hand in his other before pulling her out of the aisle and deeper into the library. Filch's steps could be heard getting closer and closer to their previous aisle of occupation. Malfoy tugged her onward toward the Muggle Studies section—the most unused corner of the library. He let go of her hand and crouched below one of the large windows. Hermione was able to see his silhouette thanks to the bright full moon streaming in through the large stain glass window in front of them. As she watched Malfoy crouched to the ground and lifted his hand to the stone below the window depicting a witch burning at the stake. Hermione almost cried out when the wall disappeared. As the sound of Filch's shuffling footsteps and Mrs. Norris' meowing approached them Hermione watched Malfoy crawl through the small opening. He looked back at her and beckoned her to follow him. Hermione could have sworn that Filch was only an aisle away from her, judging by the sound of his wheezing breath, so she, against all of her better judgement, crawled after Malfoy into the hole in the wall.

Malfoy lifted his hand in front of the hole and they were plunged into darkness as the wall reappeared. Hermione could hear Filch's wheeze as he walked right up to them, but after a minute he shuffled away muttering under his breath. Malfoy lit her lantern magically and shoved it back toward her. He stood and Hermione was able to take in the small room that they were in. It was furnished with a large library issue desk, two desk chairs, two arm chairs, and a candlelit chandelier. The walls were lined with book shelves or tapestries of what appeared to be the Forbidden Forest.

Malfoy walked over to one of these which depicted Hagrid's Hut. "This is the exit." He lifted it aside and Hermione saw a long, narrow, and unlit passageway.

"Why did you show me this?" she demanded.

She watched his face flicker with annoyance. "Did you want to be banned from the library for the rest of your life?" he sneered.

"You could have left me."

"It leads to the second floor near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Try not to get caught by Filch," he said harshly before disappearing behind the tapestry in a flourish of robes. She could hear his steps fading into the distance.

Hermione stood in the small study space breathing heavily. She examined the tall bookshelves, trailing her hand across the spines and bringing up a thick layer of dust. She cleaned the spine of one of them and read, "The Secret to Love Potions by Harriet Pennyworth". It was then that she realised that Malfoy had left her book back in the library. She turned around and looked at the seamless stone wall that Malfoy had opened. Hermione walked back to it and crouched in front of it, thinking.

It had seemed like all Malfoy had done was raise his hand and touch the cold stone. So she did that, but nothing happened. "Maybe he cast a non-verbal spell," she muttered. "_Alohamora_," she whispered. The stone did not move. "Maybe…" Hermione thought about the Room of Requirement and how it had to do with intention, so she thought: _I want to get into the library_, and the stone disappeared.

She smiled triumphantly and cautiously stuck her head into the library. She was about to crawl back and get her book when a better idea struck her. "_Accio_ _Arithmancy from the Middle Ages_!"

The book came zooming into her happy arms, and Madame Pince's anti-magic spell wouldn't go off because she technically wasn't in the library anymore! Hermione almost giggled. She lifted her hand above the gaping square hole in the wall and thought: _Close_. And it did.

She scooped up her book and tucked it under her arm, picked up her lantern in one hand and held her wand in front of her as she followed the small corridor behind the tapestry of Hagrid's Hut. It wasn't very long, but ended in a flight of stairs that brought her down two stories. At the bottom was an open doorframe directly across from Moaning Myrtle's loo. Hermione approached the opening cautiously, not remembering seeing it in second year whenever they left the ghost's bathroom. As she approached the empty doorframe Filch walked by cooing to Mrs. Norris about the food that he was going to feed her as a midnight snack. Hermione almost shrieked in fright. Filch stopped walking suddenly as if he sensed her presence. He turned and looked directly at her and Hermione started stuttering out explanations.

"I always hated this bloody painting. Who cares about Burdock Muldoon? Bloody terrible sense of fashion," Filch wheezed before shuffling away, still muttering about Burdock's green hat as he went.

Hermione was frozen in shock. Evidently no one could see or hear her when she was on this side of the doorframe, and a painting of Burdock Muldoon must be hanging on the other side of the door. Being able to see into the hallway was an added bonus because Hermione would have walked directly into Filch's filthy hands had she been unable to see what was on the other side. She cautiously walked toward the door frame. Hermione tried to put her hand through it and was met by a cool wall that felt like stone. _I want to enter the corridor_, she thought and felt her hand slide through the wall as if through a stream of water.

Hermione smiled in delight and quietly made her way back to the Gryffindor common room. On her way there she began questioning Malfoy's motivation for saving her from Filch. He could have easily left her and escaped alone, but he didn't. Not only that, how did he know about that secret study room? And why show it to her, a hidden passageway that even the Marauder's didn't know about? It was something that most people would only reveal to their close friends, or so one would think.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and went to bed, happy enough to possess the book that she wanted to read without being caught by Filch in the process. She would question how her new found study room and unlimited access to the library could help her in the future, and whether or not she was going to tell Harry and Ron about it. But that could wait until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: An Impromptu Rendez-vous

For the next two weeks Hermione used her new found secret passageway into the library in order to peruse at her leisure and continue her revision schedule under Madam Pince's pointy nose. Once her ban was over, however, she still found herself using the secret passageway and study room, even during the middle of the day, preferring its absolute silence to the actual library, coupled with the fact that it meant that the only time she had to deal with Madame Pince for more than a few seconds was when the old bat signed out her books.

At first Hermione was afraid to leave any trace that she had been using the space in case Malfoy came along and saw proof of her presence. But after a month of using the passage nearly every day she had not seen him once, and she began to leave things behind. For instance, a stack of spare parchment, a few quills and inkpots, as well as some Muggle pens, and a spare cloak as the castle had gotten rather drafty and chilly as October progressed.

Hermione became more conscientious of Malfoy's presence in her life, in part due to Harry's growing obsession with him, but also because she was afraid that he was going to confront her about the secret study room or even the book that she had taken from the library that he clearly wanted. Since she shared many classes with the pale boy she had plenty of time to subtly study him: in Potions she noticed that he worked almost frenetically trying to finish ahead of Harry; in Transfiguration he never seemed to pay much attention, but when it came to practical application of spells he performed them almost as quickly as Hermione did; in Arithmancy he took scrupulous notes and spoke to no one despite the class only consisting of seven people; in Alchemy he likewise spoke to no one and took many notes; and so on. Hermione noted the bags under his eyes grew darker as time passed and he began to look thinner and thinner. He didn't seem to be eating in the Great Hall and he didn't seem to be talking to his oversized cronies either.

Despite her attempts to ignore what Draco Malfoy was doing at all times, Hermione could not; she still feared retribution from him for revealing his secret study space.

And that is why Hermione found herself trying not to stare at the Malfoy heir across the Great Hall who for his part was picking at his plate lazily and staring off into space glumly. She of course, failed at this and ended up staring intensely at him. Until Harry and Ron sat down. Harry was trying to calm Ron down about that day's Quidditch match by offering him words of comfort. It didn't seem to be working, judging by the slightly green tinge to Ron's usually reddish face. To Hermione's surprise and utter indignation she saw Harry slip some of his Felix Felicis into Ron's pumpkin juice. As Ron drank it despite her warnings she harrumphed at the rule-breaking duo.

Hermione was glad that Gryffindor won the match against Slytherin, but all she could think about while she tromped to the changing room was how dishonest they had been. As well as how handsome Ron had looked blocking the quaffle. Hermione flushed thinking about Ron. She mostly tried to ignore her budding romantic feelings toward her best friend, because she didn't want to jeopardize their friendship, but she was finding it increasingly hard to do so.

As she walked into the changing room Harry snagged her and explained his trick earlier that morning. Hermione was very happy that Ron had been able to do all of those saves himself. But of course, like every conversation, or rather argument, that Hermione had with Ron these days she ended up fleeing in tears.

_No matter what I do he just hates me!_

Hermione went to the study room and calmed herself down before deciding to go up to the Gryffindor party. She figured she could explain to Ron that she was actually very proud of him as he had probably calmed down by then. Of course, she was an idiot to think that she would be able to patch things up with Ron. As soon as she entered the portrait hole she saw him, vacuum-sealed to Lavender Brown's lips. And her heart nearly split in two. Apparently Hermione had been harbouring more of a crush for him than she had thought…Hermione fled the room in despair. She found an empty classroom nearby the entrance to the Gryffindor tower and went inside.

She did what she always did whenever she was upset; she practiced her magic. She began working on the charm that conjured canaries from thin air. It took her three attempts—and many deformed canaries—, but by the third she had conjured a perfect ring of yellow birds that chirped and all. She watched them circle her head in fascination as Harry opened the door to the classroom.

While Harry tried to ineptly console her, Ron, with the blond slag on his arm, walked into the room. And Hermione snapped. For months now the tension between her and Ron had been building to this point, and she lashed out. She watched in vindictive fury as her perfect yellow creations flew at Ron's face and attacked him viciously—well viciously for cute little birds. Instead of instantaneously feeling better, however, she began to sob openly and she yet again fled.

She ran past Lavender in the hallway and ignored her completely. In that moment Hermione hated her. Later on she would realise that it was not actually Lavender that she hated, but rather that Ron had chosen someone else. Hermione ran all the way down to the second floor to the portrait of Burdock Muldoon. She placed her hand on it and slid through the wall a second later. She climbed the stairs two at a time, tears still streaming down her face. By the time she reached the end of the hallway she was hiccupping unattractively and had snot and tears running down her face. She pushed the tapestry of Hagrid's Hut aside brusquely only to come up short.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in one of the armchairs with his long pale fingers steepled underneath his chin. He looked, as usual, like hell warmed over.

"Oh," Hermione said intelligently.

"Granger," Malfoy greeted coldly.

Hermione was still holding the tapestry in one hand as she wiped her wet face on one of the sleeves of her robes. "What're you doing here?" she asked with an unattractive whine to her voice.

"I believe that _I_ was the one to discover this study room, Granger, not you. And it was _I_ who so generously showed you how to access it. So I believe that it should be _I_ and not you who should be asking the questions here," he drawled, lifting his nose in the air.

Hermione was too upset with Ron's recent betrayal to care about Malfoy's rudeness. She ignored him and tromped over to the other armchair, located across the room from him, and heaved herself into it. She continued to wipe tears from her face as Malfoy stared at her inquiringly. For some reason she was unafraid that he was going to attack her and leave her there to rot for the rest of eternity.

"I'm not sure that you heard me, Granger, but this is _my_ space, now leave."

"Sod off, Malfoy."

Malfoy looked taken aback by her response and a small smile lifted the corner of his lips. "Rough day?"

"Why are you talking to me?" she asked sharply. "Shouldn't you be cursing me or yelling at me, or plotting the demise of my kind?"

"Well I was plotting your demise until you so rudely, and quite loudly may I add, burst into _my_ study room," he snapped, although Hermione felt as if he were joking. "I know that you come here all the time, by the way."

Hermione sighed. "I hoped that you didn't."

"I do."

"I'm not apologising."

"Did you tell the witless wonders about it?" he asked.

"Why would they care about a secret entrance into the library?" she laughed, somewhat hysterically, at the image of Harry and Ron being excited by knowledge. Thinking of Ron however made her laughter turn in sobs again. She realised suddenly that she was sitting in front of Draco Malfoy, sobbing over Ronald Weasley which in turn made her start laughing hysterically again.

Malfoy watched her warily. "Do I need to bring you to the Hospital Wing?" he asked with a sigh as her hysterical laughter brought on more tears.

Hermione hiccupped while laughing and shaking her head no.

The unlikely duo sat in silence, save for the occasional sob from Hermione, for an unexpectedly long time. Hermione was happy for his company, even though he was Draco Malfoy, bully and pureblood extraordinaire, he was someone. And she found that she didn't really want to be alone. And so she cried in the presence of a probable Death Eater for over an hour while he watched her in silence, and she was oddly comforted.

Malfoy randomly broke the silence an hour and a half later: "Gryffindors are all so bloody dramatic," he grumbled and hauled himself to his feet. "I'll leave you to it then." And he left, his footsteps echoing down the long corridor.

Hermione was unsure why he chose that moment in particular to leave, but she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she allowed herself to wallow in her grief for the rest of the night. In fact, she would have probably missed breakfast were it not for Malfoy appearing from behind the tapestry and waking her with a start.

"You're still here?" he drawled, unimpressed.

"Huh?" Hermione asked through puffy tear-stained eyes.

"I was being kind last night, but you need to leave now," he said icily.

Hermione stood slowly and stretched, cracking her neck as she did so—the chairs were comfortable, but not _that_ comfortable. She picked up her wand and edged her way around Malfoy and down the passage without another word between the two of them.

Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor Tower and had a shower. As she cleaned herself she realised how overdramatic she had been the night before over her lost love with Ron. Of course she was still upset about it, but they had never amounted to anything, he was always right awful to her, and if he was going to pick Lavender Brown over her, then she probably deserved better. At least that what she told herself in order to get over him.

And she mostly did. Get over him, that is. Her heart only slightly clenched whenever she saw Ron and Lavender glued at the lips, which seemed to be every time that she saw Ron outside of class. She only cried herself to sleep once a week because of the gaping hole of rejection and loneliness that was threatening to take over her chest. Okay, so maybe she wasn't as over him as she thought, but an odd thing did happen in the interim.

Hermione was, of course, avoiding Ron at all costs because she really couldn't handle seeing him happily exchange spit with Lavender Brown. This meant that she spent most of her time in the library, which was great news for her already amazing grades. This also meant that she spent an increasingly large amount of time in the secret study room. This was to avoid Harry who would cast these pitiful looks her way, which she really didn't need, thank you very much (or he would try and copy her notes off of her). However, this meant that she ran into Malfoy a lot more frequently than one would hope.

The first time they ran into one another after the night that Ron and Lavender publically announced their relationship in the form of suctioning their faces together, was a week later. Hermione wanted to get a head start on her essay for Snape and she wanted to avoid Harry who really just wanted to copy her. So she trundled down to Moaning Myrtle's loo, placed her hand on the portrait of Burdock Muldoon, climbed back up the two flights of stairs, and traversed the long corridor to the secret study room. Having to go downstairs just to go back upstairs was a bit of a nuisance, but she didn't dare use the library entrance to the study room with so many people about.

Hermione threw her heavy-laden satchel onto the large desk with a sigh. Just as she began pulling out the first book from her bag a voice cleared behind her. Hermione froze, and slowly turned around.

"And I had so hoped that we wouldn't be seeing one another in this room again," he drawled, walking over to the desk and sitting opposite her. _He really had that signature Malfoy swagger down pat, _Hermione thought. Draco placed his own burgeoning satchel onto the desk.

Hermione did not respond, opting for eyeing him mistrustfully instead.

"Sorry if I was unclear, but you are not welcome here," he said slowly, as if speaking to a troll, or a three year old.

"There's no need to be so rude. And I'm not leaving."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me."

"I must have been unclea—"

"You were perfectly clear. You want me to leave. And I am staying right here. We both know that I'd win in a duel and if you want to get me in trouble then you'll give up your secret study place and won't be able to use it ever again." Malfoy stared at her icily. "So how about _you_ leave," she suggested rudely. Hermione was acting a lot harsher than usual, but she blamed Ron, as she blamed him for everything miniscule thing that went wrong in her life as of late. Stubbed her toe? Must've been the freckled git who distracted her. Lost a quill? The gangly fool probably stole it. Bad cramps? Well her hormones were all over the place due to a certain red-headed troll.

"Perhaps I'll just stay here then, if it's such an inconvenience to you."

"Huh?" While she was mentally cursing Ron Weasley Hermione had forgotten about the blond in front of her. "See if I care, Malfoy." But she really did care, she really wanted him to leave. But apparently telling/asking in the form a threat was not going to work.

And so that was how Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy found themselves doing their homework together on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

And again all day Sunday, and again Monday night, and Tuesday night. And Thursday, and of course Friday… In fact, they spent hours on end together, nearly every day in complete silence, ignoring the other's presence while reading or scratching away at an essay or project. Harry would often ask where Hermione was in the library, claiming that he couldn't find her, but Hermione always explained it away by saying that she was never stationary and was probably searching for a book while he was searching for her.

She continued to avoid Ron like he had a bad case of Spattergroit and he continued to flaunt his relationship with Lavender. The longer this went on, the more Hermione questioned why she was so head over heels for him; she really wasn't interested in such grotesque displays of affection, and she wanted more from a relationship than just the physical aspects. Or so she told herself.

Hermione began spending so much time with Malfoy that she knew his schedule almost off by heart. He had all the same courses as her, except for, of course, Muggle Studies. She knew that he always disappeared Friday nights around seven, to god knows where—Harry would probably wager that Malfoy was plotting someone's demise. Harry's paranoid influence over her often had Hermione trying to catch Malfoy with his sleeves rolled up in order to see if there was any evidence at all of his affiliation with the Dark Lord, but he always kept his sleeves rolled down.

As the weeks past Hermione's awareness of him was only paralleled by Harry's, who was very convinced that he was the one who cursed Katie Bell. And, if Hermione was being honest, she also thought that he was the one who did it. After quick investigation, it became clear that the study room did not appear on the map, probably because the Marauders did not know of its existence (because they rarely spent any time in the library—studying did pay off!). The more time that passed, the harder it was for Hermione to be unaware of Malfoy's presence. Hermione noticed Malfoy in the Great Hall, in their shared classes, in the corridors, on the seventh floor, on the second, by the kitchens one night. He was usually alone, but even if he wasn't, he never engaged her, he just lifted his nose high in the air and walked past her as if he couldn't see her. This was odd behaviour for Malfoy, who usually would find any excuse to hurl an insult at her, especially in the corridors. Hermione felt almost as if he were putting on a show that he still hated her, but really it seemed like he didn't really care if she were there or not and he had bigger things to worry about than a too smart bushy haired muggleborn. But that would be absurd, because all Malfoy cared about was making her life and the lives of her kind a living hell, right?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Party of Slugs

Okay, so maybe Hermione was not as 'over' Ron as she thought that she was. She may or may not have decided to invite Cormac Mc-can't-keep-my-hands-off-you to Slughorn's Christmas Party because she knew that Ron hated him. But she was entitled to invite whomever she pleased to the party because, as Ron reminded Harry at every turn, she was a 'free agent'. Of course, she immediately regretted this decision; Cormac was not only offensively forward, but oddly good at finding her despite her attempts to escape his wandering hands—_and where did all of this mistletoe keep cropping up from?!_

Hermione grabbed a glass of sparkling whatever from a passing student—it was Neville!

"Neville! They have you working?" she asked, incredulous and more than a little outraged.

"Yeah…" he said awkwardly shifting his weight. "At least I get to be at the party…Have a good night Hermione," he said awkwardly before wandering away. Hermione felt distinctly sorry for him; Neville was an amazing person and she was getting annoyed with the way that people treated him, as someone who didn't matter or deserve respect. He had proven himself time and time again as being very brave, loyal, and surprisingly good in duels. If only Neville had more faith in himself…

She lifted her glass to her coloured lips only to spot a head of sandy blond hair out of the corner of her eye. She quickly ducked behind a man who she could have sworn was a vampire and wound her way through the crowd to the door. Surely no one would miss her presence for a few minutes. Well Cormac might, but she couldn't care less what he felt, _smarmy git._

Hermione found herself wandering the corridor to the main staircase. And for some reason she climbed the staircase to the next level, to the seventh floor to be more precise. She considered just leaving the party for the rest of the night, at least then she wouldn't have to come up with an excuse to not accompany McLaggen back to the Gryffindor tower. Why did he have to be a Gryffindor? She should have asked Ernie MacMillan, his complete disinterest in women would have made for a much more enjoyable night. Her feet landed on the seventh floor and echoed loudly into the quiet night. It just occurred to her that she probably shouldn't be wandering the corridors at night: invited to the party or not, Filch would still try and put her in detention, which she really just didn't have the patience for at the moment. She had just turned around to return to the party when she stopped short.

Of course he was there, one foot poised on the top step of the staircase, pale, pointy, with his signature brooding look in place. Malfoy froze on the spot at the sight of her. They locked eyes for a long tense moment. Hermione's heart sped up for some reason as she stared into his stormy grey eyes. Hermione was inclined to ignore him and carry on back to the party, as she would normally do. But for some reason, probably the lack of audience and her desire to know why he frequented the seventh floor, she found herself engaging him.

"Good evening," she said curtly.

Malfoy nodded his head slowly in response and climbed the last step and placed his hands into his pants pockets. He avoided her eye contact when he replied neutrally, "Good evening."

His civility surprised her. She decided to use it to her advantage to grill him: "Why are you here?" Hermione asked, knowing that pleasantries would get her nowhere.

"I could ask you the same. You look like half a witch in that ensemble, Granger. Shouldn't you be at the party with your dashing date?" he drawled sarcastically.

Hermione found herself blushing. _Did he just compliment me in a backhanded and overly rude manner?_ It appeared that he had. "I asked first."

Malfoy actually rolled his eyes. "And here I thought that you were the mature one of your little trio."

"Another late night rendez-vous?" Hermione hazarded.

"If that were the case, the only people around are you and I. So unless you're implying that you want—"

Hermione blushed fiercely. "No! That's not—I—you—why are you always on the seventh floor on Friday nights?" she demanded after efficiently babbling herself into the grave.

Malfoy smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Hermione's eye twitched. For some reason she thought that their odd amount of time spent together for nearly two months would have changed something about the dynamic between them. Well she supposed that it had—they weren't currently dueling, he wasn't calling her names, she wasn't crying alone in a corner (at least not because of him). And they were also, quite closer to one another than they normally would be during one of these hallway encounters (usually being at least two arms-lengths away with a wand in each of their hands and spells on their lips).

She was going to respond in the affirmative to his frustratingly smug question when she heard shuffling footsteps.

"Shit," she muttered, locking eyes with Malfoy. It was clear that they both knew that Filch was approaching from an adjacent corridor. Hermione tried to think of all the hiding places available in the corridor, but she could only think of the Room of Requirement which was quite a ways off from where she was currently standing.

Luckily for her, Malfoy leaped into action. He grabbed her forearm as he marched past her and tugged her after him—and he wasn't overly gentle about it—to a large portrait of a milk maid. Malfoy muttered something under his breath to the portrait and the picture swung outward revealing a tiny, unlit alcove. Malfoy pulled her inside and the portrait swung shut behind them, cutting out all light.

Their hiding place was quite squished; it was very narrow, and surprisingly shallow. Hermione non-verbally cast _lumos_ and flicked her wand so that the orb hung above their heads casting an eerie light and practically making Malfoy's skin glow. Malfoy brought a finger up to his lips to indicate that she shouldn't say a word as Filch's footsteps inched closer and closer to the painting hiding their presence.

Hermione heard a meow right outside of the portrait and almost squeaked in terror. His hell-cat was probably sniffing them out. She really ought to just leave the hiding place while she still had some dignity; being found in a dark alcove with Malfoy was even worse than going to the party with Cormac. Instead, Malfoy slapped a hand over her mouth, covering her nostrils as well. Hermione tried not to panic—since she couldn't breathe!—and rationalised that Malfoy was just trying to save their skins, not trying to kill her.

The cat meowed again, this time more insistently. Hermione's heart was pounding and she didn't even realise that she was pressed up against Malfoy or that his large hand was covering her mouth. She really didn't want Filch to catch her with Malfoy, because then what would people think? What would Ron think? _What would Ron think? He'd be furious!_ Hermione suddenly wanted to be caught, and be caught rather publically. Unfortunately for her, her epiphany came too late and Filch's muffled footsteps could be heard continuing down the hallway. She could also hear him muttering to himself that "students were out of bed." How he knew this was beyond her; Filch always seemed to have a sixth sense for troublemaking.

Malfoy slowly lowered his hand from her mouth, and Hermione noticed suddenly that they were pressed together—not that they had much choice in the small space, in fact they had no choice. Despite this, she tried to move herself away from him infinitesimally, so that they were no longer shoulder to shoulder, but face to face with about two inches in between them.

"Is he gone?" she whispered so quietly that she thought Malfoy probably didn't hear her.

He looked down at her in the eerie light from her _lumos_ and shrugged. Hermione turned to open the portrait and leave, but Malfoy pulled her back and shook his head. The sound of Filch's footsteps could be heard again as he patrolled the hall. Hermione wanted to sigh, but instead pressed her back against the wall again and stared at Malfoy's chest.

_He really is quite skinny_, she concluded. Malfoy stared at some far off point above her head, his back pressed firmly against the wall opposite her. Hermione allowed her eyes to wander his thin frame. She once again thought that he looked unhealthy—the light from her spell wasn't helping either—like he hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks, and he probably didn't sleep much. Spending so much time with him had revealed that all that he seemed to do was study, she never really saw him eat, and he never brought any snacks to the study room—unlike her, who often brought strawberries, or a piece of pie, or a cauldron cake. Something was clearly making him act abnormal. _Maybe Harry is right, maybe he is a Death Eater_. She still had yet to see his left arm naked, so all bets were still off. She then realised that she would probably never see his left arm exposed. Then the idea of Malfoy being exposed in front of her had her blushing. Luckily with the awkward lighting and her dark skin, it was fairly unnoticeable. At least she hoped.

"Stop staring," Malfoy whispered harshly.

Hermione blushed again, then remembered his earlier comment about a rendez-vous, and she blushed even more fiercely. That reminded her of her earlier thought about how furious Ron would be if he found out that she were in a secret alcove with Draco Malfoy, after hours. And if something were to have transpired there…

Hermione found herself recklessly thinking about kissing Malfoy. The idea alone had her palms sweating, and made her heart and breathing accelerate. Draco Malfoy was someone so forbidden, and if she were to kiss him…

"Don't make me cover your mouth again, Granger, you're breathing as loud as a troll," he hissed.

Hermione's blush darkened (not that he would be able to notice on her dark skin in the poorly lit alcove) as she imagined him covering her mouth with his lips—although that would probably lead to even louder breathing. She was staring at his thin lips, imagining if they would be as cold as the rest of him, how they would taste. Would he kiss softly? Or would it be aggressive, like the rest of his personality?

Malfoy suddenly pressed against her, in order to open the portrait a crack and poke his head into the hallway. Hermione's already ragged breathing hiked at his sudden contact with him. Malfoy stayed like that, pressed against her for several heated seconds as his head whipped back and forth trying to determine if Filch was actually gone. He finally walked out into the hallway and gestured for Hermione to follow. Since it seemed to be something that she did with him quite frequently, she obliged and cautiously stepped into the quiet corridor.

"You are terrible at controlling your breathing, Granger. I'm very surprised Filch didn't catch us, since you resemble a troll," he said scathingly.

This was the Malfoy that she was more used to. "Excuse me for being claustrophobic," she hissed—and lied. She was still trying to calm her breathing and dispel images of her pressed up against the wall with Malfoy's lips glued to hers.

"I trust that you won't tell anyone about this alcove," he whispered.

"Do we trust one another now?" she asked offhandedly.

"Granger…" he warned.

"I didn't even hear the password, so I couldn't get in if I wanted."

"Good," he huffed and turned down the corridor toward the Room of Requirement. "You'd be wise to go back to your little party before Filch gives you a detention, Prefect or not."

Hermione stared at his retreating back, questioning whether or not she should try and follow him and force him to tell her what he was up to. In the end Filch decided for her. Malfoy was just approaching the Room when the old man rounded the corner closest to Malfoy. Hermione, being very close to the staircase quietly ran down the stairs and back into Slughorn's party while Filch nosily reprimanded Malfoy for breaking curfew.

Filch appeared at the party moments after Hermione's hurried arrival with a very cross looking Malfoy in tow. Of course, the second that Hermione had re-entered the party McLaggen had found her and tried to corner her under the mistletoe. Were it not for Malfoy's sudden appearance, she probably would have had to curse the overbearing would-be Quidditch player. And thus Hermione found herself silently thanking the gloomy blond twice in one night. A fact which she felt distinctly uncomfortable with, coupled with the fact that she was still trying to dispel images of them tangled together in that tiny alcove.

Hermione watched as Malfoy left the party and found herself wanting to follow him. She actually had to take a step backward—and right into Cormac's more than willing arms. He turned her around with a broad smile. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione saw Ginny approaching eyeing Harry.

"Mistletoe," he indicated, for the tenth time that evening.

For a second Hermione wanted to let him kiss her, to just stand there and show Ron that he didn't matter to her. To show the school that she wasn't the prude that they thought she was. Instead, she turned her head at the last second so that Cormac's enthusiastic kiss landed on her cheek instead.

"I've just got to use the loo," Hermione said quietly before disappearing behind a gaggle of raucous witches. She fled the party for the second time that evening and went straight the Gryffindor Tower. She almost went back to that alcove, to try and guess the password, but she was far too drained for the evening and instead tiredly walked up to her shared room and wiped the tears streaming down her face away resolutely. She glared furiously at Lavender's bed curtains upon her arrival. She closed her own curtains harshly and cast a sound-proofing charm so that she could grumble to herself angrily as she stripped for bed.

-x-

The next morning Hermione tried to listen to Harry as he spoke to her, looking very concerned about something, but she found herself instead trying—and failing—to ignore Ron and Lavender's noisy and very disgusting goodbye a mere four feet away from her. _The nerve_. At first she was angry that he continued to flaunt his happiness in front of her. Angry at Ron and Lavender. Then she was sad and lonely. And now she was jealous. She wanted someone to kiss her goodbye before the holiday break, someone to send a Christmas gift to. Someone to owl every day. Someone to be interested in her for something more than her grades. And of course that someone had to be a certain red-headed freckly gangly git currently vacuum sealed to her roommate's lips.

Hermione hugged Harry, absentmindedly agreeing that they'd talk when the holiday was over, and instead eyeing the entwined couple behind him enviously. Ron and Harry disappeared for their holiday together and Lavender skipped back up to their dormitory with a gloating smile thrown in Hermione's direction. Hermione stood in the common room for a long time afterward, rooted to the spot. She wasn't leaving for another three days, wanting to get some research done before she headed home. And although the library was technically closed, she had unlimited access thanks to a certain someone. Hermione shook her head and went to grab her school bag so that she could get to work.

She found Malfoy in the study room already. But he was sleeping. His head pressed against the table unattractively, his hair a mess, his mouth slightly parted, and his face relaxed out of his perma-scowl. He actually looked kind of cute. Hermione smiled at the sight of him and quietly installed herself at the desk. She figured if the sounds of her echoing footsteps hadn't woken him, a quiet quill wouldn't either. So she started writing her essay for Slughorn, trying to block out the bad memory of McLaggen at his party as she did so.

Malfoy woke with a start several hours later. He wrenched his head from the table and looked around uncertainly. His eyes landed on Hermione, who had frozen at the sound of the change in the regularity of his breathing. She decided to act aloof, since it seemed to work for him, and instead of saying anything she returned to writing her essay. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him patting down his hair slowly.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "How long have you been here?" he asked groggily.

"Long enough."

"Shouldn't you be gone home for Christmas?"

"Shouldn't you?" she threw back. Hermione didn't raise her eyes from her work, so she missed the hurt look that flashed over Malfoy's face.

"Listen, Granger. I've been too nice, allowing you to use this study room. I'm going to change the password before I leave for the holiday. I don't want you here anymore."

Hermione was hurt by his straightforwardness and her quill paused, poised above her piece of parchment. "You don't know how to 'change the password', because you didn't invent it." Hermione finally looked up at him and saw him glare at her.

"This is my study room," the blond said icily.

"Is that so? I suppose I should probably alert Filch to its presence in that case, and I can direct him to you, since it's yours and all."

"You're testing my patience, Granger. Trust me when I say that you don't want to mess with me after I've just woken up."

"Speaking of which, why do you never sleep?" she set her quill down. She knew he wasn't going to answer her, but she wanted to interrogate him none-the-less. "And why are you always going to the Room of Requirement, and why do you keep helping me?"

Malfoy pulled his bag onto his shoulder and stood. "I don't want to see you here again. If I do, I'll curse you," he threatened darkly before storming out of the study room and completely avoiding all of her questions.

Yet again Hermione was left alone in the silent room. Whenever he threw little tantrums like these she figured he was just trying to make himself look tougher than he felt. They didn't overly hurt her feelings, since he didn't seem to be overtly attacking her per se, and she was more than willing to allow him to use them as reasons to excuse himself from her presence. Except that for some reason she found herself wanting him to come barging back in and demand that she leave the room, then have him drag her from her chair and press her against the wall and smash his lips against hers, and…

Hermione shook herself away from that venue of thoughts, disturbed at herself.

-x-

Hermione knew that she ought not to be wandering around on the seventh floor past curfew, but there she was. Hoping. Hoping that Malfoy would appear, and for some reason they would both be shoved into that tiny closet together again, and this time she would act on her impulse. And of course hoping that she could catch him in the act, doing whatever it was that he did in the Room of Requirement, that was the main reason, not that they would be forced into that tiny alcove mere inches apart…

"Granger, are you stalking me?" Malfoy drawled from the entrance to the Room of Requirement. The door disappeared behind him.

Hermione blushed and could not think of a lie. Instead she stared into Malfoy's clear grey eyes and found herself wanting him again. She was aware that she wanted to use him, wanted to feel better about Ron leaving her behind, and Malfoy was the only person that Ron would never forgive her for. But she was also curious as to what would happen if she were to kiss him. If they were to touch at all willingly.

"No response? Not even a denial. You should tell the wonder twins that the next time they want someone to spy on me they should probably pick someone better at lying than you."

Malfoy walked past her toward the large marble staircase. Hermione walked a few paces behind him until the staircase where he turned around and looked at her accusingly.

"Stop following me."

"Tell me what you're up to," she countered.

"Granger, I swear to—"

A chilling meow broke the stillness of the castle; Mrs. Norris.

Hermione stared into Malfoy's eyes in horror for the second time in two days, not believing that this was actually happening again. The meow seemed to be coming from the staircase. Malfoy glared at her accusingly. He did not grab her this time, but marched over to the portrait and muttered under his breath angrily. He did, however, step aside to allow her to enter first, before he followed and closed it behind them quickly. This little gesture made butterflies flutter in her stomach; who knew that the prat was a gentleman?

Hermione's ragged breathing filled the small space quickly, and she felt Malfoy shift against her slightly, trying to put more distance between them. They heard another meow, closer this time, followed by a long silence. Hermione forgot to cast a spell to illuminate the small space, so they both stood in the dark. They suddenly heard two people talking, who Hermione quickly identified as Snape and Filch. They sounded like they were a ways away.

"If you hadn't slowed me down I would've been in the dungeons by now," Malfoy accused quietly.

"If I hadn't slowed you down you would've walked right into Snape and Filch," she corrected. Hermione tried to locate his head in the darkness, and after a moment she thought that she saw his pale skin. For some reason she still wanted to pursue this crazy idea of snogging him.

He didn't respond and Hermione's ragged breathing filled the small space. "Seriously, why do you breathe so loudly?" She swore that she was able to locate his mouth now. He continued whispering harshly, "You're never this loud in the study ro—"

And she did it, cutting off his whispered complaint with her own soft lips. It was distinctly an odd sensation, to have her lips pressed against Draco Malfoy's. It was also not anything special, probably because he just stood there; he was shocked into stillness by her unexpected advance on his velvety lips. Hermione used this moment to press her body against his and bring her arms around his neck. She pulled back after a moment of this stillness and held her breath in anticipation. She then noticed that ragged breathing was filling the small space, but it was not her own. She wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not, but she found herself not wanting to pull away from Draco, who felt oddly warm and comforting to hold onto.

Draco cleared his throat. "What was that?" he whispered harshly, his voice cracking ever so slightly. But he didn't push her away.

"Don't tell me you've never snogged anyone before, Malfoy," Hermione teased lightly, thinking back to the time she had kissed Krum by the lake, and how cold and awkward it had been.

"You and I both know that that's not true," he replied, his hands resting on her waist uncertainly.

Hermione leaned in closer to him again and she felt his ragged breath on her face. She wanted to kiss him again, to see how it would feel with him kissing her back. To try and forget the hole in her heart that Ronald Weasley had left. She sensed his reluctance, however.

Hermione was feeling very heated in their small alcove with Draco's hands now firmly pulling her body into his. She found herself grasping at straws trying to convince him to continue. "It's dark, just pretend that it's not me, that it's—I don't know…Pansy," she said, thinking that Malfoy might have been interested in the Slytherin.

"Not Pansy," he disagreed, but his lips were a hairsbreadth away.

"Okay, not Pansy," she agreed quietly.

Hermione's heart was beating quickly as they closed the gap between their lips. She could hear Filch just outside in the corridor complaining about lax punishments for students these days as Draco Malfoy kissed her back. Butterflies exploded in her stomach and he pulled her even closer to him by the hips. Draco's lips were so soft and warm, and when he kissed her she felt electricity bolt from her heart to her core. Draco quickly slipped his tongue into her mouth and the two of them battled for dominance, with Draco winning and pushing her against the wall behind her. Hermione embarrassingly realised that was moaning quietly into his mouth from their brief kisses, but she didn't want to stop. In fact, when Draco's hand roamed to her butt and squeezed it gently, she lifted that leg and wrapped it around his waist. This incited the couple to grind against one another, surprisingly gently. Before Hermione knew it, Draco's hand was down her skirt, rubbing her over her knickers as he sucked on her neck. And Hermione didn't want it to stop, which, had she been in her normal state she would have realised she was whispering raggedly 'don't stop'. She felt an intense heat building in her core. Draco pushed aside her knickers roughly and brushed against her clit lightly, evoking a loud whimper from the brunette that echoed off of the stone walls like a gunshot. This caused the couple to freeze, and realise that they were in fact hiding and trying not be caught. After a moment of tense silence and ragged breathing, the couple established that the corridor was, in fact, empty—_how long had it been empty?_ Draco still had his hand down Hermione's skirt, her leg was still hiked up around his waist, his hot lips were attached to her neck, and one of her hands was shoved into his formerly perfect hair.

Hermione's body was thrumming with desire and telling her to yell at him to continue, even as Draco slowly removed his hand and stepped away from her—as much as he could in the small space. Hermione imagined that he was avoiding eye contact, but since there was no light, it was hard to tell. They were both breathing very heavily.

"That was a mistake," he breathed.

"I'm sorry. I know how you feel about me." This statement was greeted by a strange noise from the blond, but Hermione ignored it and continued on: "I just—because Ron and Lavender…and I feel so…and I know that for some reason you're under a lot of pressure right now. And we spend a lot of time together. Why would you want to spend time with me?" she asked more to herself. "A Muggleborn. Or at least, why would you tolerate my presence outside of class?" Hermione reached out a hand and located his. She held it gently. "I think that you've changed. I think that you don't believe in blood purity anymore. Why else would you kiss me back? Let me help you, Draco," she implored softly.

Draco pulled his hand away raggedly and flung the portrait open. Moonlight flooded the alcove and Hermione saw how conflicted her looked as he shouted, "Leave me alone!" before fleeing.

Hermione sighed and stayed pressed against the wall for several minutes. It was only once she realised that anyone could wander by and discover this hiding place that she left it and quietly made her way back to the Gryffindor tower. She was in disbelief that she had actually snogged Draco Malfoy. That he had—she blushed—put his hands down her pants, and that she had liked it—no, loved it. That she wanted a repeat performance. Hermione shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Snogging Draco was supposed to help her get over Ron, and feel like a woman, not make her want to be with Draco. Not that she wanted to be with him…she just wouldn't mind snogging him again…if not a little more…And it wasn't supposed to more than a snog…how had that happened? Hermione's body flushed with heat again as she relived the moment. She took and deep breath and made herself think about Trelawney to calm down.

Hermione sighed loudly as she clambered into bed. She decided that she should probably leave a day ahead of schedule so that she could avoid Malfoy at all costs. She really felt as if she had almost got through to him at the end there…Clearly he was being forced to do something that he didn't want to do. Something most likely related to Voldemort, something that stressed him out enough to make him stay up all night and stop eating. Something that would make him question his beliefs enough to touch a Muggleborn. Or maybe he had changed, maybe he no longer cared about blood status…

Hermione wished that she had the Marauder's Map so that she could see where he was.

It was that thought that made her realise that she needed to leave Draco Malfoy alone. She loved Ron Weasley, even if he broke her heart. She still loved him. Although, now she found herself wanting to explore what she and Draco had started.

_Definitely leaving early tomorrow morning_, she decided. _Best not to risk another encounter with him._

**A/N: Some people may have found Hermione's desire to kiss Draco unfounded. My defense, she's been in the blond's presence almost every days for weeks now...who wouldn't want to? AHA. Also, I know Hermione is very love stricken by Ron, but she was/is very much in love with the freckled git...for now. In all seriousness I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Oh yeah, and this will be a strong M rated fiction, just not that strong in the beginning...Consider yourself warned. Thanks for all the favs and followers! I had writers block for a bit, but I think it's cleared up, so chapters should be uploaded fairly quickly.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I'm not sure if I mentioned this earlier or not, but for the first part of that story I will be glossing over the details of events that come straight from the actual book because I don't want to re-write the scenes or anger our Lord and Saviour JK Rowling. Enjoy! Chapter 4: Happy Days

Hermione eyed Draco from her seat at the Gryffindor table during dinner. His slumped back was to her. She found it odd that he was slouching, Draco Malfoy always held himself straight up, always made everyone else feel like they were less than him, that we were all being graced by his presence. And he was slumping. She hadn't seen him since their encounter on the seventh floor two weeks previous, but he seemed much more troubled, or at least his back did.

"I'm going to go—" Hermione started to say to Harry.

"To the library, yeah, yeah. It's not like we haven't seen each other in two weeks," Harry joked.

"I've got an essay that needs—"

"Please, Hermione. We all know that you're months ahead on homework," he replied.

Hermione stood up anyway, but smiled as she looked to the Great Hall doors; Ginny had just walked in. "You should be thanking me, a space just freed up beside you and look who just walked through the doors," she said cheekily.

Hermione greeted Ginny on her way out of the Great Hall and headed to the library, succeeding in not looking in Ron and Lavender's, nor Draco's, direction on the way out—not that any of the aforementioned people that she was avoiding seemed to be aware of her presence or the fact that she was indeed avoiding them. She decided to take the regular entrance into the library since she knew that it would be very empty and Madam Pince would quickly realise her presence and question how she had got into the library without walking past the old hag.

She smiled happily at the librarian who eyed her suspiciously before returning to her novel, _A Potion, A Witch, and a Wardrobe_. Hermione rolled her eyes at the elderly witch's taste in literature. Hermione wandered the stacks of the library not looking for anything in particular, just wanting to absorb the smell and ambiance of her favourite place on earth; she had missed the library during her winter holiday. She found herself in the back corner of the library where the study room could be found. Not actually wanting to go to the study room, she turned around, but stopped short.

"Are you following me?" she accused the teenager who had suddenly appeared in front of her.

"We need to talk," he whispered roughly.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up as the memory of their last time together filled her mind. "You told me to stay away from you," she countered.

He advanced on her slowly, but Hermione held her ground. When he was a few feet away he spoke softly, sounding very confused; "Why did you kiss me?"

"Why did you kiss me back?" she countered, very curious of his answer.

"I asked first," he said.

"Who's the mature one now?"

The corner of his lips twitched for a moment, almost as if he were going to smile, but decided against it. "Aren't you supposed to be in love with Weasley for some absurd reason?"

Hermione didn't want to talk about Ron, or their kiss because it was making her want to kiss him again, which she quickly realised was probably a bad idea. So she changed the subject and decided to pursue her goal of converting Draco Malfoy to the light side. "How was your holiday?"

A dark look flickered over Draco's face and his right hand went to his left forearm absentmindedly. Hermione followed the movement, her eyes widening despite herself; Harry was right. Draco dropped his hand immediately when he realised his mistake and cursed under his breath. "Just stay away from me, Granger."

"You're the one who followed me."

"And stay away from the study room and the Room of Requirement," he threatened.

"The offer is still open," she said sincerely, taking a step toward him. Hermione watched his eyes flicker to her lips and she blushed deeply. "The offer to help you, I mean," she amended quickly (although, if the blush rising to her cheeks were any indication, the offer to snog seemed to be very much still on the table). "Dumbledore can help you, Draco." She took another step toward him and entwined her hand into his. He gripped her hand tightly, letting his eyes close for a moment. "It's not too late," she breathed.

Hermione noticed that his head was descending toward her own and she found herself yearning for a repeat performance. Unfortunately, he rested his forehead against hers instead of kissing her. He was breathing heavily with his eyes closed.

"Let me help you," Hermione insisted into the stillness of the library.

She looked at his tortured face as he said, "They'll kill them."

"Who? Who will kill who?" she asked seriously.

This seemed to ruin the moment and Draco ripped himself away from her. He took two unsteady steps backward and wiped away a few tears that were streaming down his face. "Stay away from me, Granger," he said darkly before turning on his expensively clad heel and fleeing the library.

Hermione sighed in frustration. She felt oddly unbalanced after the encounter. Draco had all but confirmed that he was a Death Eater, she wanted to kiss him, _and_ she had seen him cry. Draco Malfoy. CRY.

This was the tipping block for her. She squared her shoulders and decided to confront Dumbledore, she had all the proof that she needed; Draco was a Death Eater and he was being forced to do something, or someone (probably his family) would be killed.

When she got to the griffin statue she was surprised to see Dumbledore walking out of his spiral staircase.

"Ah, Miss Granger, just the witch I was looking for. Would you like to accompany me upstairs to my office?"

Hermione nodded dumbly, unsure of how he knew she wanted to talk to him and they mounted the stairs in silence. Dumbledore swept ahead of her, installing himself behind his desk with a grin and twinkling eyes.

"Now, I believe you would like to discuss something with me," he said warmly.

Hermione tried to think of how to best explain that Draco Malfoy was being blackmailed, and that he was a Death Eater without seeming too irrational or paranoid. It was to her great surprise that when she opened her mouth to speak, the following sentence came tumbling out: "I snogged Draco Malfoy."

Dumbledore nodded understandingly, as if several students had already come to him with the same confession. He peered at her over his half-moon glasses and she found herself babbling.

"I think that he's changed. I think that he's being forced to do something. I think that Harry's right, that he's a Death Eater, but he doesn't want to be!" she insisted. "And he said that I can't help because 'they'll kill them' but he won't say who. And we've been studying a lot together. And when we kissed it was…" Hermione trailed off realising that her headmaster probably didn't want a blow by blow recount of their astounding snog. "I think he's a Death Eater. I thought that you should know…" she trailed off lamely with her face on fire.

"Thank you Miss Granger. I am aware of the concerns that Mister Malfoy is a Death Eater, but please be assured that everything is under control," he replied calmly.

"But—"

"I am more interested in the change in your relationship with Mister Malfoy. I am happy to hear that the two of you are…getting along," Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes. Hermione wanted to die under a rock from embarrassment. "I think that it's important that Mister Malfoy has someone that he can rely on. I think that you could have a very positive influence on him. Even if that means that all that you two do together is study. As with any other student, if you ever have any concerns about Mister Malfoy, please don't hesitate to visit me again. On another note, how was your holiday?" he asked, all smiles.

"But—I—Malfoy…"

"It was very quiet at the castle, very few students decided to stay here for the holiday. Although the Christmas Feast was like no other…" he said wistfully. Dumbledore yawned noisily bringing his blackened hand to his cover his mouth. "Pardon me, but I believe that it is my bed time Miss Granger, and it's almost curfew, you should head back to the Gryffindor Tower."

"But…"

Dumbledore was leading her to his office door and wishing her a goodnight before she could further pursue the conversation. She stared at his closed office door in confusion for several moments before finally realising that she should probably get back to the common room before Filch caught her.

-x-

And so they returned to their odd quasi friendship; despite Malfoy's warnings, Hermione went to the study room, often. By the time March rolled around they were taking turns bringing snacks and even discussing school subjects together. She discovered that Draco was particularly fond of cookies, not matter the type, as long as it was a cookie. Hermione suspected that he stole his snacks from the kitchens and she worried how he went about asking the elves and how he treated them, but after a quick trip down there and many reassurances from none other than Dobby she felt better; he really was changing. Hermione found herself wishing that they would touch again, even just hold hands, on several occasions. However, her love for Ron hadn't fully diminished, despite Lavender's nauseating need to show the world to whom he belonged. So Hermione continued her secret friendship with Draco Malfoy while pining after a man who seemed as if he would never love her.

Hermione had been debating for ages on what to get Ron for his birthday. It had to be something personal enough because she was still his best friend, technically speaking, but it also had to convey the fact that she still loved him and that she was a better choice than Lavender while at the same time showing that she was angry at him for his choice in woman. It was a bit of a conundrum. When she had finally settled on a present, it didn't seem to matter much because Ron wound himself up in the hospital wing because he drank crystallized meade that was supposed to be given to Dumbledore for Christmas. And that's where things took a wonderful turn in Hermione and Ron's relationship all thanks to a whispered word in his pained sleep. Suddenly the three of them were reunited again, studying together in the library, eating together in the Great Hall, walking together through the corridors, enjoying each other's presence. And Ron was being nice to her and complimenting her and making her feel special…

Hermione found herself heading to the study room one evening for the first time in weeks. She almost felt guilty that she had stopped spending time there and as compensation had cooked a huge plate of biscuits with the house elves to offer to Malfoy. She wasn't sure why she felt guilty, perhaps it had to do with Dumbledore saying that Malfoy needed someone and she felt as if she had let him down. So it was with much trepidation that Hermione walked down the hallway before the study room, her footsteps echoing loudly, a giant plate of cookies balanced in one hand and her ridiculously overstuffed satchel over her shoulder (she really had to find a spell that could extend the size of bags). She hesitated for a moment at the tapestry, for the first time considering the fact that he might not be there.

But he was.

And he looked worse than ever.

Draco lifted his smouldering eyes up to hers as she walked into the small space, bags under his eyes, skin paler than a vampire's, and looking decidedly malnourished. His face remained stony and he dropped his head back down to his essay quickly afterward. For some reason this hurt Hermione. She sat down across from him in uncomfortable silence as she arranged her books and quills to start her homework.

"I brought cookies," she said brightly in the never-ending silence.

He didn't respond, in fact he seemed to not notice the fact that she had said anything.

"I made them myself," she tried again, "Well, actually, the house elves helped me because I am not a natural baker, but we taste tested them and they're surprisingly quite good…they're ginger that I collected from the Forbidden Forest with—"

"I'm trying to do my homework, Granger," he said icily.

"I…" she cleared her throat, not ready for his harshness, and no longer used to it.

"So kindly shut your mouth or leave," he continued without stopping the fluid motion of his quill.

Hermione blinked at him in disbelief. "Why are you being so rude?" she demanded, surprisingly upset.

He paused in his writing, but did not look up at her. "I have a lot of work to do, I have asked you several times to stay away from me and this study room and you always ignore me, and when you look at me with those beau—shut up or leave," he said rudely before continuing to write his essay.

But Hermione was more than used to ignoring his advice and instead was stuck on what he was about to say before he cut himself off. "When I look at you with what?"

"Nothing."

"Just tell me what you were going to say."

"Get out," he said darkly, still not looking up from his paper.

"What did I do?" Hermione asked shrilly, annoyed with and hurt by his behaviour.

Draco suddenly stood to his feet, toppling his chair behind him. "What did you do!" he roared. Hermione stared at him in fright as he rounded the table to her side and brusquely grabbed her forearm, wrenching her to her feet. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" he shouted again. Hermione tried to pull away from him, but ended up pulling them both toward the wall and cornering herself. She looked up at the fury painted across his face and tried to remember the self defense class that she had taken last summer at the insistence of her parents, despite the fact that she was a witch and could easily—she berated herself internally at forgetting once again that she could easily dispose of the blond in front of her with a flick of her wand.

"Malfoy, I—"

"MY NAME IS DRACO!"

"Draco," Hermione amended quickly. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I did. I thought that we were getting along alright—"

"Yeah we were, weren't we? You bringing all those little snacks, us occasionally discussing our classes, and of course ignoring one another in the hallways as if our lives depended on it—well maybe mine does, but yours doesn't. Then you just disappearing…Why would you make me cookies?" His grip on her arm loosened and he let it drop lamely.

"Because I—"

"It's been _weeks_, Granger. Weeks. And you bring cookies? Why did you even bother coming back?" he sneered.

It suddenly occurred to Hermione that Draco was hurt because she had left him alone for so long. And she felt her heart melting; she had gotten through to him. Except now he hated her because she'd abandoned him. Hermione looked up at his angry face and smiled despite herself.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"You're jealous that I'm spending time with Harry and Ron, and not you."

"Why would I be jealous?" he asked defiantly, but a faint blush was appearing on his high cheekbones.

"Mal—Draco, they're my best friends. And we've been fighting all year, so it's nice to just be able to hang out together."

"Weasley doesn't want to just be your friend," he said quietly.

Hermione blushed. "You think that Ron…?"

"Everyone knows that Ron likes you," he said with an eye roll. "And that you like him," he added gruffly.

Hermione wasn't sure how this made her feel, all year she wanted Ron, since fourth year she wanted Ron. But now, she wasn't sure if she wanted him as more than a friend. She knew that she loved him, but recently imagining him kissing her and telling her that he loved her was not the first thing that she thought about whenever she saw the red head. Whenever she looked at Draco, on the other hand, be it in the hallways or in class she always got a whooping sensation in her stomach. She looked at his downcast stormy eyes then. He was still standing close to her, but he seemed less angry.

"I don't know how I feel about Ron," she admitted quietly. "But I apologise for disappearing, for weeks. That wasn't a nice thing for me to do. Friends don't do that," she added shyly. "But you also shouldn't have yelled or grabbed me like that!" she scolded.

Draco looked down at her smaller frame, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but he quickly returned his face to a scowl. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said seriously, "I won't yell or… grab you again. But we're not friends."

"Of course we're not…" Hermione smiled and before he could stop her she threw herself into his arms, pulling him into a tight hug. Her heart began beating very quickly from their contact, but she also remarked that he was thinner than the last time that they were pressed together and she began worrying for him. Draco was slow to wrap his arms around her body, but he did, making her feel…well she wasn't entirely sure what she felt. Hermione pulled out of the hug and kissed him on the cheek without thinking about it. She suddenly started blushing fiercely. "You should try the cookies…" she said awkwardly. She walked back to her seat and started writing her essay in the hopes that the tension would magically go away.

It didn't.

She felt Draco's eyes on her almost the whole time that she was writing and the sounds of him eating her cookies just made her think of his mouth. She suddenly realised that she hadn't been writing for a solid five minutes, just staring at her parchment blankly.

"They are good," he said softly. Hermione blushed happily.

"Thank you."

"You should have one," he suggested and walked around to her side of the table. He picked up a cookie and held it up to her mouth. Hermione's mouth was suddenly very dry, but she leaned forward and took a bite. Draco watched her chew and swallow the small bite before feeding her the next, then the next. Hermione thought to herself that this experience was oddly sexual, but it was over before she had more time to examine it. That is, until he pulled her willing body from her chair up to meet his and rested his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for many heated moments. Hermione's eyes were open, but Draco's were closed.

"I want to kiss you," he murmured quietly. Luckily the room was dead silent, so his words sounded as loud as a bomb going off. "I've wanted to kiss you for months…ever since…"

Hermione didn't wait to hear how long he had wanted to kiss her, instead she found herself initiating a kiss with Draco Malfoy for the second time. She hadn't realised how much she had wanted this to happen again until their lips were fused together, her hands curled in his soft hair and his pulling her closer to him by her waist. They wasted no time in adding their tongues to the mix, battling for dominance. Draco leaned back to sit onto the table and hoisted Hermione onto his lap easily—apparently he wasn't as frail as he looked. Were Hermione less turned on she would have been embarrassed at how quickly instinct took over and had her grinding her hips against his eagerly. Draco leaned back on one hand while using the other to ensure that their hips were as closely fused as possible. Hermione thought that she felt the stirrings of something pressing against her thighs, but she was far too distracted by Draco's kiss to think anything of it. He pulled away from the kiss and languidly began sucking on her neck right above her pulse which had Hermione panting loudly and letting out soft little moans. Draco bit her gently and her breath hitched. She must have kicked the plate of cookies because a second later the echoing sound of breaking glass filled the room.

The couple froze and Draco pulled himself away from her neck looking somewhat guilty. Hermione was blushing fiercely as she—reluctantly—pulled herself off of him and righted her skirt, which had climbed surprisingly high. Draco stood as well and buttoned up his dress shirt which Hermione had apparently started to unbutton without realising it.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "I'm going to leave."

"No," Draco said quickly, taking her hand gently. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…we're…just stay. We can just do our homework. I promise." He sounded very weak and vulnerable in that moment, even his face wasn't its regular mask of indifference.

Hermione was distinctly uncomfortable with his open feelings and in way of response she found her wand on the table and repaired the broken plate. She pushed Draco out of the way and sat down at the desk again, restoring their once neat work table back to its former glory with a flick of her wand. Draco walked around to the other side of the table and sank down into his seat.

An awkward silence took over the room again.

Draco finally broke it. "I'm sorry. I know that you're confused about Ron and I'm—"

Hermione shushed him and reached for his hand across the table. She held it silently with her left hand while continuing to write her essay with the right. She saw Draco pick up his quill a few moments later and start working. They stayed like this for another two hours until Hermione's wand reminded her that she had to go do rounds in five minutes. She unwillingly removed her hand from Draco's warm grip and began packing up her books and supplies. Draco stood and walked her to the entrance to the hidden room. They paused there, staring at one another uncertainly.

Draco leaned down and kissed her briefly, just a quick touch of skin to skin—which had Hermione's heart pounding.

"We should stay away from each other," he said softly.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, recognising that no good could come from their relationship, mostly because he was a Death Eater and she was a Muggleborn. Not to mention their history or the fact that she hardly knew him. Despite this, she said, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he responded quietly, turning away from her and heading back up the staircase to his books.

Hermione met Hannah Abbott in the Front Hall with a smile on her face.

"Why're you so happy, Hermione?" Hannah asked as they started their rounds together.

"I had a good day," was all she said in response, but her smile grew even wider.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Sectumsempra

Hermione and Draco continued to spend hours on end together studying, but as March turned into April and April to May Draco began disappearing more and more. Hermione ran into him several times on the seventh floor while she was doing rounds, but she was never able to say anything because she was always accompanied by another Prefect. It became more and more rare to see him in the study room, and if she did he had often fallen asleep while studying. In fact, Hermione loved these moments because his sleeping face revealed the innocence that he seemed to have lost while awake. He seemed almost happy in sleep, except right then; he was frowning deeply. As Hermione watched he began muttering and suddenly woke with a start. Draco looked around groggily trying to pinpoint where he was, probably still overwhelmed by his dream—nightmare.

"Hermione?" he asked, confused.

"You were dreaming," she said gently. She reached a hand out to his and he easily entwined his hand in hers. She wouldn't admit how much she liked it when he called her by her given name. It never failed to make butterflies erupt in her stomach. Unfortunately for her, Draco rarely called her Hermione, only at moments like these when he was waking from an impromptu nap. His tired and confused face always made her smile because it wasn't until he was once again fully conscious that the weight of the world seemed to take up residence on his shoulders. She hated seeing the transition in his demeanor when this happened.

They had not kissed a third time, but whenever they studied together they held hands. Hermione wasn't sure what this meant and she tried not to think about it because she found herself once again falling head over heels for her freckled best friend. Yet she couldn't stop the butterflies in her stomach whenever she saw the blond git in front of her enter a room or whenever they held hands while studying together. Draco seemed aware of the fact that she was still in love with Ron and never said anything about the redhead. Draco didn't try and push himself onto her either, but he always held her hand whenever they studied, seeming to allow himself only this small contact.

"Oh," he mumbled. He snuggled up to their entwined hands and closed his eyes again. "I just need a little more sleep…"

Hermione smiled at his croaky voice and watched as he fell back asleep in a matter of seconds. She worried about him, a lot. She had spoken with Dumbledore briefly on many occasions about her worries, but he always dismissed them with a wave of his blackened hand and instead thanked her for being courageous enough to befriend Draco. Even when Hermione told him that she was afraid that Draco was planning something drastic that could endanger someone's life, Dumbledore just nodded and patted the back of her hand before telling her about his favourite candy when he was her age. The old wizard's apparent lack of belief and caring about Draco's intentions and livelihood was starting to seriously bother Hermione; for someone who always went on about how the safety of his students came first and foremost, he didn't seem to care much at all about Draco.

Instead of continuing to do her homework, Hermione set down her quill and rested her head on the desk as well, allowing her eyes to wander over Draco's smooth pale face. As usual, she found herself staring at his thin lips and she found herself wanting to claim them as her own. She allowed herself to grumble angrily over her confused feelings. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment so that she could once again try and examine how she felt toward Ron and toward Draco.

The next thing she knew she was blinking her eyes open sleepily to see Draco staring at her intently. As she watched him she noticed a faint blush rise to his cheeks. Draco quickly sat up and removed his hand from hers. He stared off into space above her head.

"Apparently we were both tired," Hermione laughed awkwardly, realising that the blond had been watching her sleep. Draco quickly excused himself after that, beating a hasty retreat down the echoing hallway.

It was to Hermione's surprise that the next time that she entered the study room one of the armchairs had been transformed into a sofa and Draco was nonchalantly stretched across said sofa, fast asleep. She was unsure if he had transfigured the couch or if the room was working some of its own magic, but she was sure that she missed his comforting hand in her own while he slept. Not that she would ever admit that. She also found it odd that he would come all the way to the study room to take a nap when he could have very well just gone to his dormitory or the room of requirement for that matter.

Their time together, which had started in antagonistic silence and had progressed to companionable silence, had apparently progressed to Hermione watching Draco sleep. The now rare times that they saw one another always consisted of Draco sleeping. Whatever his mission was for the Dark Lord it apparently afforded him very little time for sleep at night. Something that Harry never missed on commenting.

"Harry I really think that you should let this drop," Hermione said for the _n_th time, even though she agreed wholeheartedly that Draco was a Death Eater and that he was 'up to something'.

"Kreacher and Dobby were unable to find anything concrete, but…"

Hermione sighed. "I'm going to the library if you're going to carry on with this nonsense." She was finding it increasingly hard to lie to Harry and Ron, even if it was by omission.

She excused herself, so she didn't see Harry follow Draco out of the Great Hall and up to Moaning Myrtle's loo. She missed Draco crying and Harry casting that awful spell on him. It was not until later that evening when Harry ashamedly recounted what had happened that Hermione had even found out what had transpired between the two enemies.

She had a hard time masking her worry for Draco and scolded Harry endlessly until Ron told her to lay off; "The git's still alive, isn't he?" Ron said callously.

"You could have killed him!" Hermione insisted.

"But what if he is a Death Eater," Ron insisted.

Harry remained silent.

"That makes no difference!" Hermione shrieked.

"I didn't know what it would do…" Harry mumbled unhappily.

"I can't believe you would cast a spell like that, without even knowing the consequences!" Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"Hermione, give him a break."

"No!"

"I'm going to go to bed," Harry sighed and slouched away.

"You've upset him now," Ron grumbled, following Harry after casting a look at Hermione.

Hermione bristled angrily. She checked her watch to see that curfew was officially in effect. Despite this, she found herself casting disillusionment and silencing charms on herself before sneaking out of the portrait hole toward the hospital wing.

The door creaked open very loudly, but Hermione could clearly hear Madam Pomfrey's snores from behind her closed office door. Hermione tip toed through the length of beds looking for pale skin and luminescent hair. She finally reached the end of the row of (very empty) beds to find a small curtained off corner. Hermione carefully pushed the curtains to the side to see a wand aimed directly at her heart. She almost shrieked, but luckily the hand that was not holding the wand clamped down over her mouth.

Hermione stared wide eyed into Draco's grey eyes and paler than ever skin. His face was covered in faint pink lines and he looked distinctly haggard. He let go of her mouth slowly before gently tugging her behind his curtains. He cast a silencing charm casually and sat on his bed. Hermione took a seat across from him in the empty visitor's chair.

"I almost cursed you, Granger," he accused. "You are terrible at sneaking into places, I knew you were here before you even opened the door."

"I am not terrible at sneaking into places!" she countered ineffectively.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"And who do you think would be sneaking into the hospital wing in order to kill you?"

"Could have been Potter come to finish the job."

"Harry feels terrible," Hermione said quickly.

"Then why isn't he here instead of you?"

"I think the wand that you had pointed at my heart may be part of the reason. You'd have hexed him to next Wednesday."

Draco smiled feebly, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace. He clutched his stomach weakly and Hermione rushed to his side. "Are you okay?" she interrogated, placing a hand on the one clutching his stomach. "I can wake Madame Pomfrey."

"No," Draco said through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

"Liar."

Hermione went to stand, but Draco held her back by her hand. "Don't leave," he pleaded almost inaudibly.

Hermione quickly sat down again beside him, her heart swelling uncomfortably in her chest. "Whatever you want," she breathed.

Draco smiled down at her sleepily and his eyes began to slide shut. "I'm a little tired," he yawned.

"You should go to sleep," Hermione suggested, pushing him gently onto his back. She pulled his covers up around him and tucked him in, daringly placing a kiss on his forehead.

"You should too," he commented.

Hermione blushed at his insinuation, which was probably an accident because he was high on Merlin knows how many different pain potions. Or at least she thought it was an accident until he pulled her onto the bed beside him, yet again surprising her with the strength that his seemingly frail body possessed.

"Draco, I—you're—we—" she babbled.

Draco wrapped an arm around her and pulled her so that she was spooning him, her head nestled into his neck. "Shh, Granger. It's sleep time."

"What if Madame Pomfrey…" Hermione protested feebly, immensely liking the feel of her body pressed up against his own.

Draco turned his head and slowly kissed her in response. Hermione responded enthusiastically, immediately flushed with desire. Unfortunately, Draco pulled away after mere seconds. "I'm injured, you have to do what I want," he reasoned tiredly, "Now stop talking and sleep." Draco tightened his arm around her waist and fell asleep almost immediately.

Hermione found that she didn't want to argue with him, but found it much harder to fall asleep than Draco; she was still too distracted by his extremely brief kiss, and his warm body pressed against her own. As well as the fact that Madame Pomfrey or anyone else could discover them both at any minute. She did end up falling asleep, however, and it was one of the best sleeps that she had had in a long time.

-x-

Hermione awoke with a start as the first beams of sunlight began to pierce through the tall Hospital Wing windows. She blinked sleepily trying to remember why she was in the Hospital Wing or, rather, what she had done to merit said visit. It was not until she tried to turn over that she realised that she was cemented in place by a pale arm with her back against a solid warm form.

"Troll boogies," she muttered.

Hermione cautiously tried to extricate herself from Draco's arms, quickly realising how implicating her current position was. What if Madam Pomfrey woke up? What if Snape walked in? What if Harry had a change of heart and came to see Draco? Anyone could see her there in the arms of her sworn enemy. However, she was more worried about what impact that would have on him, were he to be caught with her. His parents would not only disapprove, but Voldemort would probably try to have Draco killed for sleeping with someone so inferior, even if all that they had done was sleep.

Unfortunately for Hermione, Draco was having none of her attempts to gently wriggle her way free. In fact, he tightened his arm around her waist and muttered incomprehensibly into her ear. Hermione almost felt bad for him, knowing how little he slept. She didn't want to bother him. But she _really_ needed to get out of there. She tried more forcefully to get out of his arms. _How was someone who looked so damn sickly all the time so damn strong?_

"Draco," she whispered harshly, afraid of waking Madam Pomfrey.

"Mmm…"

"Draco!"

Hermione heard him breathe in sharply behind her as he began to wake. "Wha…?" he grumbled.

"You're holding me prisoner," she stated quietly.

His arm flexed pulling her closer to him and Hermione remarked—blushing furiously—that she felt a certain something pressing up against her back. Draco snuggled into her and his breathing began to slow again.

"No!" she grumbled. "Wake up!"

"No," he countered sleepily, "I'm having a good dream."

"Draco, anyone could see us," she argued, despite the fact that she really wanted to stay pulled against his supposedly frail body.

His arm slackened ever so slightly around her smaller frame only to travel down her stomach and stop just below her bellybutton. Hermione shivered. Draco began rubbing circles on her lower stomach. Hermione's breath hitched.

"What're you doing?" she asked breathily into the still Hospital Wing.

"Convincing you to stay," he whispered hotly into her ear.

And his hand descended into her skirt that she had not changed out of before rushing off to see him the night before. Draco placed his hand over her underwear rubbing in small circles. In an instant Hermione was responding to his somewhat clumsy touch; clumsy due to the fact that he had just woken up—or at least she hoped that was why he was clumsy. She remembered when he had touched her last, on the desk in the study room and how much she wanted that touch to go further. She felt herself getting wet at the thought as well as Draco's lazy circles of her modest underwear.

Without realising it, she had been grinding back against his waist, moaning inaudibly. Her whole body was alight as Draco nipped on her neck. Hermione shut her eyes against the blindingly bright sunrays, clamping a hand down over her mouth to stop a particularly loud groan from passing through her lips. Draco slipped his hand into her knickers, locating her clit after a few seconds and he began toying with it insistently. He then slowly slid a finger into her slick slit, pumping it in and out languorously. His thumb continued to work her bundle of nerves. Hermione was overwhelmed with how good he felt inside of her, pressed up against her, kissing her collarbone. She almost laughed at the impossibility of her current situation, but instead retained another forceful groan as she felt heat building in her lower abdomen.

"Isn't this so much better than leaving, Granger?" he whispered into her ear before nipping on it lightly.

Hermione nodded blindly, her backed arching in pleasure. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt herself nearing the edge. Draco was sucking on her neck deliciously as the resounding boom of Madam Pomfrey's office door opening broke the silence of the wing. Hermione's eyes snapped open and her hips stilled their gentle rocking against Draco's. Draco's finger hesitated inside of her, then suddenly began pumping in and out of her very quickly.

Madam's Pomfrey's echoing steps could be heard as Hermione whispered, "What're you doing?" which mostly came out as a whining groan.

"You have to finish before the old bat gets here," he said simply and determinedly got back to work.

Madam Pomfrey's footsteps hesitated a moment and could be heard returning to her office. Hermione tried to figure out where the witch was, but instead found herself breathing out Draco's name in an odd sounding whine. Her eyes were clamped shut again and she was aggressively moving against the Draco's waist. In the back of her mind Hermione registered vaguely that Madam Pomfrey's steps were now circulating near the front of the wing. She had a hand covering her mouth to block her groans but Draco quickly removed it and placed his lips against hers instead. Hermione twisted her body more to deepen the kiss with him, their tongues battling fiercely. She was having a hard time focusing of the location of Madam Pomfrey as the only rational thought passing through her head was that if Draco were to stop now she might murder him. She was clamped tight around Draco's finger, her hips jerking erratically as she felt heat radiating from her core to the rest of her body. Her whole body was so tense it felt like a bomb was about to go off, except that she wanted it to happen.

Draco curled his finger lightly inside of her as Madam Pomfrey's steps took a turn toward them. She stopped breathing for a second as she felt herself imploding. Her eyes were closed peacefully, head thrown back against him, mouth agape as she rode out her first ever orgasm. Draco swallowed her groan and continued to kiss her fiercely. He continued to writhe against her slowly as she clamped down on his finger, bringing it further into her. His hand retracted from her panties quickly afterward and he righted the covers over them. He pulled her back into him and whispered "Go back to sleep." She could feel his erratic heart beat behind her.

Hermione kept her eyes closed, her heat pounding from her orgasm and the fear of Madam Pomfrey finding her with Draco. She was having a hard time believing what she had just done with Draco Malfoy, _in the Hospital Wing_. She had always figured that her first orgasm would be from Ron, or more likely, from herself, she just hadn't gotten around to it yet. Her body was still flushed with heat and twitching ever so slightly as she heard the curtains open around Draco's bed and she froze.

"Oh," Hermione heard Madam Pomfrey breathe from the gap in the curtains.

Hermione stayed completely frozen, not even breathing, pressed very conspicuously—because of her easily identifiable tangled mass of hair—into none other than Draco Malfoy's chest on the too small hospital bed. Several moments of silence passed with Hermione feeling the hot gaze of Madam Pomfrey surveying them. Draco pulled her closer and pushed his face into her bushy hair. Hermione could have sworn that she heard Madam Pomfrey say "cute," before the sounds of the curtains being closed again and her retracting footsteps could be heard.

Hermione let out her breath.

"Why didn't she kick me out?" Hermione questioned.

"Because it's bloody early and we all want to be sleeping," Draco complained from behind her. Hermione felt that odd fluttering in her stomach as he kissed her neck gently. "Now shut it, will you?"

Hermione closed her mouth, and despite the fact that she really ought to have left the bed then and there, she snuggled back into Draco and allowed herself to slip into a light sleep again.

She awoke an hour later. Draco was kissing her neck again. Hermione blinked at the fully risen sun as Draco continued to lazily kiss her.

"I should go," she said quietly, realising that she had probably missed breakfast and Harry and Ron would be concerned, but more importantly they would question her incessantly and her library excuse was getting a little tired.

"I know," Draco said with a hint of regret. But he kept his arm wrapped around her. "Thanks for coming," he said lightly.

Hermione blushed fiercely at the double meaning of his words. "You chose those words specifically, didn't you?" She felt him smirk against her neck. "You're a little shit."

"Hermione. Listen. I hope what we did, what I did to you, was…I mean. I realised that I was forcing you to stay…and…that's not okay—"

Hermione smiled faintly. "It was fine, more than fine... Although next time can it not be with Madam Pomfrey possibly bursting in at any moment?"

"Next time?" he asked in a tone that she couldn't identify.

"I—I—well—er… There actually probably shouldn't be…"

"I know. That's why I'm sorry, because I know how you feel about Weasley…and me."

"Do you?" she asked feeling butterflies rage in her stomach—_did he know that she didn't know if she was still interested in Ron, that she was feeling something whenever Draco was around her?_

"Everyone knows, Hermione. You love him. You hate me."

"I don't hate you," she objected, "We're…" she hesitated before saying 'friends' because none of her friends had ever done what he had done to her, had made her feel so satisfied—even though she had really wanted Ron to.

"Friends?" he filled in for her.

She nodded.

"Then we shouldn't be doing this," he tightened his arm momentarily to highlight his point. "_I_ shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?" she asked timidly, feeling rejected.

"He would be furious."

"Who?" Draco didn't respond. "Draco, I know that you're a Death Eater," she said nervously, glad that she was facing away from him.

His body became rigid as he absorbed her words. Instead of responding to her bombshell of a statement, Draco simply said, "We can't be friends. We need to stay away from one another. I shouldn't have…We can't be friends, Hermione. Do you understand?" he asked seriously.

She nodded slowly. "Can we still study together? I promise not to hold your hand anymore."

He hesitated. "We shouldn't," meaning that they would be seeing each other very soon in the study room.

Hermione disentangled herself from the bed slowly, righting her clothing and avoiding his gaze. Draco rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. She wanted to say so much but didn't know where to start, instead she ended up thanking him lamely:

"I—er—that was my first time…that that's happened…and—er—thanks, I guess, is what I'm trying to say…"

"You mean to say that you and Weasley haven't…?" he replied incredulously.

"Ron and I are not together, Draco. Ron was with Lavender Brown for most of the year," she added bitterly. "That's beside the point, I hope you heal well, come visit me in the study room when you're better. And don't worry, I'll give Harry hell for what he did to you."

"Thanks," he smiled ruefully.

"And get some sleep, Malfoy. You look like hell."

"At least I'm not the one with that tangled mess on top of my head," he threw back lightly, causing Hermione to smile.

She left him without another word, making awkward eye contact with Madam Pomfrey on her way out. Unfortunately Hermione was unable to skirt her way around the witch.

"Miss Granger, a word?" she said, indicating her office door.

Hermione gulped, but walked into the untidy office obligingly, throwing a glare toward the curtained off bed occupied by a certain blond at the opposite end of the wing. She sat across from the mediwitch wondering how this conversation was going to go.

"As we both know, you spent the night with Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione nodded without making eye contact and blushed redder than a stop sign. She was fidgeting awkwardly and trying to smooth down her skirt inconspicuously. She swore that she could still feel Draco _there_.

"As you are both upper year students we cannot deny that this sort of behaviour happens, even if it is strictly forbidden within the castle, especially within my wing," Madam Pomfrey continued sternly. "However," she added, a smile tugging at the corners of lips, "I was young once. I remember what it's like. I know it may seem impossible to be away from one's love—"

"He's not my—"

"But my biggest concern is that the two of you are being safe," she cut off Hermione, opening the second drawer in her overcrowded desk. "I'm assuming that you've heard of the contraception method that Muggles use? A condom?" the old witch reached across the desk and handed her several.

"I—"

"Here are some instructions just in case," she said with a wink. "Now, wizards and witches do have a common contraception charm that will also deal with STIs. It's quite simple, just wave your wand in a spiral like so," she demonstrated, "above your lower abdomen and say '_Tiomen Cep_'. There is also, of course the potion that you can take once a month. You'll have to order that in unfortunately, but here's an address," Madam Pomfrey handed her a piece of paper from the same drawer, "You can order by owl post and it comes in a discreet box, no one will know. I know this may seem awkward to discuss with Mr. Malfoy, but safety is important. Now, I don't know what you two did last night—nor do I want to!—but I advise that you do the contraception charm, it is effective up to 8 hours after sexual activity." Madam Pomfrey looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, now?" Hermione asked, even more embarrassed.

"Yes dear, so I can make sure that you've done it properly."

Hermione performed the spell perfectly, as per usual, and continued to avoid the mediwitch's surprisingly non-judgemental gaze.

"Good!" Madam Pomfrey said cheerily. "I will be having a similar conversation with Mr. Malfoy, fear not!" she assured Hermione, who finally looked up at her in horror. "Now, have a great day Miss Granger, and don't fret, dear, I won't tell anyone about you and Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione rose slowly, unsure of what just happened. She stuffed the card and condoms into the deep pockets of her school robes and fled the office. She was going to kill Draco for making her sit through that conversation.

Madam Pomfrey, for her part, bustled around her office pretending to clean while really reliving one of her more torrid affairs from her Hogwarts days.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Snowball Effect

Hermione and Draco did not speak of their illicit moment in the Hospital Wing at all. Hermione didn't even bring up the fact that Madam Pomfrey of all people gave her 'the talk' because Hermione was too embarrassed to talk about what she and Draco had done together, even though she wouldn't mind a repeat performance. Instead they returned to their odd silent friendship in the study room and the condoms that the mediwitch had given her remained unused at the bottom of Hermione's trunk. Draco slept most of the time, or furiously wrote essays that he was far behind on. They didn't speak much, Hermione was unsure if she was more afraid of him snapping at her or of him telling her what his mission entailed. So it was silence for another month, companionable silence, but silence.

Hermione spent more time in the library or on the school grounds with her friends than she was used to, limiting her time with Draco even further. She also noticed that Ron was less than subtly trying to put the moves on her, much to her embarrassment. Did she even like him still? Hermione was still torn up about her feelings, but she did enjoy not having to avoid Ron, so that was something. And seeing Harry so happy with Ginny made her happy. Harry deserved a little happiness.

Of course, since things seemed to be going too well something had to come and destroy it.

Hermione was in the study room, late one night, alone. She stretched herself out on the couch, which seemed to be a permanent installation and closed her eyes. She started brainstorming what she thought Draco's mission was. A moment later she heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. She heard the tapestry be pulled aside and without cracking an eye knew that Draco was sauntering into the room. For some reason or another she pretended to be asleep.

Hermione felt Draco's gaze on her body, she had to school her features to stay relaxed and to stop herself from blushing. The sound of something heavy clunked to the ground and Draco's footsteps approached her. His body sank down onto the sofa beside her. He gently moved her so that she was lying mostly on top of him, one of her legs between his. She felt his steady heart beat above her ear and she actually felt herself beginning to drift. That is until he started whispering softly.

"I've solved it, Hermione." He didn't sound particularly happy about that fact, however. "If only things were different. If only I weren't a coward…"

"You're not a coward," she couldn't stop herself from saying.

He stiffened ever so slightly. "You're awake."

"You're not a coward. You're very brave. I don't know whatever it is that you're facing, but you've been incredibly brave," she insisted into his soft Slytherin shirt.

"I am a coward."

"Stop."

He didn't say anything after that and they lay together for a long time, snuggled close.

"I should go," he said eventually.

"Can I give you something?" Hermione asked timidly after several long minutes of contemplation.

"Why?" Draco asked, as if it were the most inconceivable idea.

Hermione smiled at his reaction and pushed herself up on his chest so that she could look into his stormy grey eyes. "You'll like it," she promised, blushing.

"More cookies?" he asked hopefully, not registering how Hermione's hand was moving downward. "Because those last ones were de—LISH—ous," his voice cracked as Hermione's hand jumped into his loose slacks. "_Hermione_—" he groaned, "are you SURE…" Draco tried to ask her.

Her hand closed around his stiffening length lightly. "I'm trying to convince you to stay," she said mimicking his own words. She honestly thought that if she could convince Draco Malfoy to quit this task that had been assigned to him then he would move to the light side. She also just wanted to touch Draco, which seemed to be a real problem in her everyday life.

Hermione adjusted her body and his pants so that she could stroke him properly. She was a little startled by the sight and feel of an actual penis. She hoped that she was doing a good job, only having a somewhat questionable book that she had taken out from the public library near her home the previous summer as a guide. Draco groaned her name quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as her hand pumped up and down. His hands were clenched, knuckles white, eyes alternating between being closed at staring at her handiwork. She figured that this meant that he was enjoying himself. Hermione found herself flushing at the act, but continued stroking him until he came undone a few minutes later.

She was unprepared for his load moan of pleasure or his sticky release that coated her hand. Hermione pulled her wand out of her school socks and scourgified herself and Draco and tucked him back into his slacks. She rested her head back onto his chest, his heart beat was now incredibly erratic. Draco cleared his throat several times before he was able to speak.

"That was…"

Hermione smiled. "Too good for words? I must be pretty good then," she teased.

Draco remained silent, wrapping his arms around Hermione's body. She nuzzled her head into his neck happily. They stayed that way for a long time, Hermione thought that he had fallen asleep when Draco finally spoke.

"We shouldn't have done that."

Hermione felt a stab in her heart for a moment until she acknowledged the fact that he was quite correct. What was she doing? Giving Draco Malfoy a hand job in a secret study room that only the two of them knew about? He was a Death Eater, he had some sinister mission that he—

"Draco, what did you say to me when you thought I was sleeping?" she asked quietly, lifting her head to look into his open eyes.

He said nothing.

"You said that you've solved it. What have you solved?" He gazed into her eyes silently. "What have you solved?" she asked again. "Does this have to do with the mission that you have? Is someone going to get hurt?" she sat up entirely now, straddling his waist.

"I can't tell you, Hermione."

"Yes, you can!" she insisted.

"No, I literally cannot," he countered gruffly.

"An unbreakable vow?"

He didn't respond, which Hermione took to mean 'yes'.

She stared down at his now frightened eyes wanting to help the lost boy in front of her. "My offer still stands, I can bring you to Dumbledore, he'll understand. He'll help," she said trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him.

Draco gently pushed Hermione off of him and stood up. "Stop trying to help, Granger. I can't—just stop! I shouldn't have come back here. You shouldn't have done what you did. We can't be together. You don't even like me! You're still in love with Weasley! What are we doing?" he asked agitatedly pacing back and forth in front of the sofa.

Hermione stood and stopped his pacing by placing his hands in hers. She looked at him earnestly. "It's not too late, Draco. We can go find Dumbledore right now," she pleaded softly.

Draco looked at her, torn. Finally he pulled away brusquely, turning his back to her. She saw him wipe at his face and bend down to pick up his heavy satchel. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, his back still to her. "Please remember that I don't want to do this. That I have to do this. I'm sorry." His shoulders shook.

Hermione wanted to hug him, but she stayed rooted to the spot remembering something else that he had said when he thought that she had been sleeping, something along the lines of 'if I wasn't a coward…' Something about the way he had said it felt as if he were talking about something other than the War.

"Goodbye Hermione," he said, walking toward the tapestry. He paused in front of it, making it seem as if he were going to turn around and return to their comfortable position on the sofa. Draco went to lift the tapestry aside when Hermione asked:

"What would you do if you weren't such a coward, Draco?"

Draco stayed rooted to the spot, his hand holding the tapestry.

"What would—" Hermione started to repeat, but she was cut off swiftly by Draco turning around and advancing toward her.

Draco took her into his arms and attached his mouth to hers fiercely. Their tongues tangled aggressively, Hermione's hands shoved into his silky smooth hair, his pulling her hips into his own. The moment his lips touched hers, her body was alight with desire, and something else; comfort, she felt comfortable in his arms. They kissed for countless minutes, the kiss starting off bruising and tapering off slowly until their lips were just gently touching.

Draco pulled away slightly and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Hermione's eyes were still closed when he moved away suddenly. She kept them closed, not wanting to watch his departure from her life. Instead she heard his footsteps echo down the long hallway toward the staircase. Her heart was still fluttering excitedly several minutes later when she finally gathered up her things and started her journey to the common room. Hermione felt a loss in her heart for some reason. Perhaps she liked Draco more than she wanted to admit, or perhaps something about the way he said goodbye this time really seemed like he meant it, unlike all the other times. And that upset her more than she would have liked.

She made her way to Dumbledore's office to let him know that Draco was going to enact his plan very shortly. As per usual, Dumbledore nodded sympathetically and answered none of Hermione's fears. She found herself leaving his office even more upset than when she got there. Little did she know that Dumbledore had sprung into action the moment she had fled his office in anger and disappointment. He had started implementing his safety plan that himself and Severus had dreamed up the August before. Hermione did not know that this would be the last time that she would see her Headmaster alive. She would not know of his plan until the following May when Harry would relay it to her during the aftermath of the Final Battle.

As it were, Hermione returned to the Gryffindor dormitories with a heavy sense of foreboding weighing her down. She didn't know then that her life and Draco's (and the entire fate of the Wizarding World) would change drastically the following night, hurling them both down very different paths.

**A/N: So, a super short chapter to end the first part of this story. Henceforth we shall be in post-Hogwarts territory. Sorry if you feel like their relationship gets cut off abruptly, but that's what I wanted. It could never work out between them during school, and I also wanted this story to somewhat follow the canon story line. **

**I want this story to be done by the New Year. Ambitious, I know, but I've just surpassed 60K (word count) and I'm thinking it'll be around 80K long (maybe more, we'll see because chapters often get out of hand, especially the next one which is probably my longest one ever). Anywho, glad everyone enjoyed Madam Pomfrey. Perhaps I'll write a ficlet about her past or her quest to educate youngsters on safe sex practices. Who knows. Merci beaucoup for all the reviews and follows. Okay, end of this unprecedentedly long author's note. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: As promised, my longest chapter to date. Enjoy!**

Part Two Chapter 7: Seven Years Later

The Ministry of Magic held an extravagant Ball every Yule in order to raise money for a charity that helped orphans from the Second Wizarding War six years previous. It was all anyone talked about for months leading up to that fateful day in December: what were you going to wear; who were you going with; how much were you donating; did you hear that this couple broke up; did you hear that that woman is pregnant, _no that was a rumour_—_was it_? And so on, and so on, and so on. It really was the talk of the town; almost every witch and wizard in Britain squeezed into the ballroom magically enlarged by the Ministry. And for good reason, because the Yule Ball was an excessive affair: ball gowns, live orchestras, the Weird Sisters, the Minister for Magic conversing with his citizens, Harry Potter, photo booths, a silent auction, an unlimited bar, and the event was covered by every known wizarding magazine, journal, daily report, radio station known to wizarding-kind. Yes, the Yule Ball was something to behold.

And Hermione Granger dreaded it more than a class with Professor Trelawney—the old crock. Thinking back to that stuffy classroom made her wrinkle her nose even more profoundly in the mirror.

"Troll boogies," she cursed, having accidentally stabbed herself in the eye with her mascara wand while thinking about that wretched woman whose hair was even wilder than her own.

Hermione stared at her dark complexion through one eye, the other was closed shut tightly in pain. It started watering and she cursed again; she would have to completely re-do that side of her face. Hermione heaved a sigh and went searching for her dress.

For the past seven years on the eve of the Yule Ball she was gifted with a non-descript parcel in which she always found—after rigorous testing for hexes and curses, or illicit substances—a lovely gown. And every year she wondered who sent her the gift. The first year after the War she thought that it was Ron trying to do something nice for her, but when she had arrived in her long flowing gown, Ron's look of surprise clearly showed that he had no clue where she had received such a lovely gift (never having been one who was good at concealing his feelings). His look of appreciation also revealed how flattering it was.

This had of course sparked a long and fruitless quest in which Hermione tried every tracking spell in the book (literally), and even tried her hand at developing a few of her own, to see whom had owled her such an expensive gift. What disturbed her more than anything was that the person was well aware of her measurements; the dress fit like a glove. It was for this reason that she had immediately assumed Ron. Of course, she realised that this assumption was far from correct the following year when they were no longer together and she still received a beautiful gown. Hermione began to get a little confused. Who would know her body size perfectly, and who would want to send her such a gift? And who would know that despite her inner battle every year, she would end up donning the gown because she loved it too much to let it go to waste? Hermione spent more hours than she could count pondering these very questions. She still found herself answerless, and staring at yet another breath-taking gown, trying to decide whether or not she ought to wear it.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the simple soft pink Grecian-style dress that she had bought herself and the extravagant one that clearly outshone it. It was a long dress, as they always were, beige in colour, and adorned with tiny jewels, crystals, diamonds, and pearls. A thin band brought the dress in at her waist after which it poufed-out slightly to create an a-line tulle skirt. From the waist up the dress was almost entirely see-through, save the flowers and ivy made of lace that crawled up from the waist of the dress, covering her breasts and midriff, keeping the dress modest despite its overall transparent bust. It was a dress that was meant to be worn bra-less, something that usually wouldn't bother Hermione, if everyone and their great aunt Tessie weren't there to scrutinise her every move. The dress also came with a large detachable snow white top that resembled a hand muff, but went over her shoulders to keep her warm and covered the upper half of the dress. She assumed that she was supposed to wear this instead of her plain travel cloak.

"What do you think, Crookshanks?" she asked her old orange cat who was lounging on her queen-size bed.

He raised his head slowly and meowed roughly. Hermione could have sworn he lifted an eyebrow as if to say: we all know you've already chosen.

Hermione heaved another sigh. "You're right."

For the fifth year in a row Hermione found herself shimmying into a dress from an unknown sender who had impeccable taste. Oh, and I forgot to mention, the dress always came with a pair of heels that even Hermione, who had very little patience for fashion, admired more than she cared to admit. The best part? The heels came pre-charmed (something that she had discovered while testing the parcel for curses) so that her feet didn't hurt. This year was no different. She sighed, this time in delight, as she slipped on her comfortable black pumps that had a flash of gold at the bottom. She twirled in front of the mirror, feeling like a teenager again, until she noticed her face and the large black streak running down it from her ruined mascara.

She sat back down in front of her mirror and cleaned up her clumsiness with a wave of her wand. After a few minutes of painful struggle—literally painful because she poked herself for a second time in the eye—she emerged with her chocolate brown eyes looking larger than usual, framed by light black mascara and winged with eyeliner. Hermione smiled and waved her wand at her face, concentrating on a long-lasting charm that she had picked up from Hannah Abbott at the office. She glanced at her clock above her dresser and nearly yelped. She needed to leave in five minutes and her hair was still a tangled mess. Six minutes later, half a bottle of Sleekeazy's hair potion, a furry goodbye to Crookshanks, and several curses later Hermione was jogging down the stairs of her flat and out into the alleyway beside it, her hair in tamed curls pulled to one side of her head, long satin gloves pulled up her arms, and her beaded bag in hand.

She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves for the inevitable barrage of press, questions about her latest bill reform, her status as a single woman, her latest pregnancy scare, her position at the Ministry, etc., etc.

Every year she hoped that her fame would diminish and people would stop caring about the minutia of her life, and every year she was disappointed. _Maybe it will be different this year_, she thought hopefully, apparating to the Ministry.

It wasn't.

"Miss Granger! Is it true that you're secretly dating Rolf Scamander? The two of you were seen two weeks ago, alone in a café. What do you have to say to that?"

"Miss Granger, what bill can we expect you be pushing for next?"

"Miss Granger, was your move to the Law Department voluntary?"

"Miss Granger, what is a cellular phone and how will it impact the wizarding world?"

"Miss Granger, where did you get your dress?"

All of these questions were thrown at her within three seconds of her apparition into the Atrium.

"Hermione!" a voice shouted through the fusillade.

Hermione smiled brightly—and several cameras flashed—as she spotted Harry, Ginny, and Ron near the fountain in the Atrium, just past the press line. Hermione was just about to struggle her way through the throng of reporters and blindingly bright flashes toward her friends when someone appeared behind her, landing on the back of her dress that had been trailing behind her, and unbalancing her on her rickety high heels; they may have been comfortable, but they weren't any more stable than most heels. In other words, Hermione began a rather quick descent to the ground that was further away than usual due to her incredibly high and incredibly gorgeous heels. Even as she was falling she couldn't hate them. This from someone who really hated all aspects of fashion—_such a waste of time and money—_so the heels were clearly a sight to see. Back to the point: Hermione was falling.

It was to her utmost surprise, that she found herself in someone's expensively-clad arms, and not in an unattractive heap of expensive fabric on the floor. Hermione looked up to thank her rescuer, despite wanting to berate them to watch where they were walking, only to lock eyes with none other than Draco Malfoy. _The_ Draco Malfoy. Reformed Death Eater, schoolyard bully, blond-haired, grey-eyed, richer than the Queen, the man that she avoided like the plague since sixth year, Draco Malfoy. Hermione's eyes were open in surprise as she held his intense gaze. She noted absentmindedly that there was an eerie silence surrounding them. For some reason Hermione felt herself blushing, and very unable to tear her eyes away from his. His pale grey, hypnotising eyes.

As soon as the silence came, it left, and even more reporters were shouting questions their way, not believing the sight before their eyes: Hermione Granger in Draco Malfoy's arms. It felt nice to be in his strong arms again. A wayward thought in the back of her mind told her that she would be seeing photos of her in his arms for weeks to come with varying ridiculous articles. Hermione had pushed all memories of her interactions with Draco before the night that Dumbledore died out of her mind, because she could not reconcile her actions, nor his. Not to mention, whenever they crossed paths they both acted as nothing more than vague childhood schoolmates and not once had they addressed their time together in the study room (not that they had had a conversation that lasted more than thirty seconds).

Draco righted Hermione and took a step away slowly, not breaking eye contact.

Hermione was still blushing fiercely, apparently still affected by his presence after all these years.

"My apologies," Hermione managed to hear him say over the roar of questions.

"It's—er—fine?" Hermione shouted in response.

"Miss Granger, are you or are you not currently having an illicit affair with Draco Malfoy?" someone shouted, drowning out her response.

Hermione blushed brighter, still holding Draco's gaze, which had changed from its usual seriousness to looking mildly amused. He surprised her by holding out his arm, indicating that she should take it. Hermione hesitated for a moment, extremely conscious of the crowd pressing in around them. However, she thought she would probably be able to force her way through the crowd more effectively with someone helping her out on one side. So, she linked her gloved arm through his, finally tearing her eyes away. And an amazing thing happened: Everyone went silent again. Hermione saw Ron's jaw drop from across the Atrium. Draco tugged her forward slightly and began walking, his head held high as usual. A path cleared in front of them, cameras still flashing noisily, but the reporters seemed too taken aback by this crazed turn of events to formulate any questions.

The short twenty feet to the press line felt like two years to Hermione. She felt her heart beating erratically, her palms sweating in her satin gloves, she could swear that her forehead was sweating, did she smell? Since when had she become so self-conscious? Beside her Draco seemed all kinds of calm and he quickly, but gracefully lead them to safety. It was not until they were one foot away from the press line that the questions erupted again, luckily they crossed over the line and all the obnoxious queries were silenced by the powerful press charm that had been cast earlier that evening. A pleasant jazz filled the silence of the reporters. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see the cameras still flashing their way and several reporters demanding answers, which looked quite comical as she could hear nothing of what they were saying. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed her friends rooted to the spot by the fountain of peace. She unlinked her arm from Draco's and looked up at him again.

"My apologies, again," he said smoothly, his grey eyes boring into her brown ones. "It would appear that I have terrible timing. The press will be sure to take my arrival to mean that we are secretly seeing one another," he rolled his eyes at this notion.

Hermione smiled back. "Not to mention the whole saving me from falling thing," she reminded him. "That must show our attraction that was previously so well-hidden," Hermione joked, quickly realising that her joke wasn't so far off.

"Indeed," Draco smiled. She liked his smile.

He took a step away from her, seeming to realise that they were quite close together—Hermione noted that cameras were still flashing their way from behind the press line, even though the pictures would be blurry thanks to the spell—and he continued, "I hope you have a lovely evening, H—Granger. Sorry for any future inconvenience that my horrid timing will cause you." He grasped her hand and kissed the back of it lightly before bowing slightly and walking off into the ballroom, his travel cloak billowing behind him.

Hermione's hand was burning through her glove where his lips had pressed against her oh so lightly. By this point her face was crimson and she wished that she had inherited more of her father's dark skin so that her blush wouldn't shine as brightly. She walked over to her friends in a daze. _When had Draco Malfoy become so attractive?_ Or an even better question: Had she ever stopped being attracted to him? As this thought crossed her mind she realised that she had in fact noticed very little about him apart from his eyes, and the fact that he had a black travel cloak on. This disturbed her more than the thought that he was attractive; she found his eyes attractive, not necessarily his body. The seven years that separated her from Draco and their secret blip of a relationship seemed as if it were not so many years away, but only a few weeks, her emotions came back so strong.

"What was that?" Harry asked by the time Hermione had finally made her way over to them.

"What was what?" she asked, making sure that her hair was still in place.

"Oh please," Ginny rebuffed, a hand resting on her swelling stomach. Ginny was wearing a long deep purple Grecian dress. "That whole little altercation between you and Mr. Most Eligible Pureblood in Britain."

"Bad timing," Hermione responded with a shrug, stuffing her gloves into her beaded bag. "And this dress had a little train on the back that I didn't notice before, he stepped on it, I fell, he caught me. The cameras flashed, need I say more? Actually, he was quite pleasant and apologised several times. Very un-Malfoyesque," she added, wondering why he had decided to continue their interaction further than bumping into her, seeing as they had ignored one another for several years now.

"I'm surprised Pansy Parkinson isn't trailing around after him as usual," Ron mused. "You better watch out Hermione, she might get jealous of you and Drakie," he teased.

Hermione pushed him lightly in response. "Shall we find our seats?" she suggested, heading toward the ballroom.

"Can I say that this year's dress is by far my favourite!" Ginny said, not asked, leaning on Harry slightly as they walked through the massive archway into the magically modified ballroom. "That muff part, is it fur? It looks so warm."

"Don't tell me that you're wearing another dress from that creep?" Harry grumbled.

"Harry, I submitted it to the usual tests, stop worrying."

"It's literally my job to worry, Hermione."

"Neville!" she exclaimed, ignoring his response and greeting her friend who was making his way over to their table. Hermione pulled him into a quick hug and greeted Luna as well who was trailing several paces behind Neville examining the ceiling with a vague expression.

"What does Malfoy even do?" Ron pondered aloud.

"Doesn't he—" Ginny started to say, but was cut off by Kingsley Shacklebolt taking the stage and asking people to take their seats.

A loud kerfuffle followed as literally hundreds of people clacked their way to their assigned seats in their fancy shoes. Hermione and her friends found their seats near the front of the grand ballroom, at a large table of about twenty. Hermione rolled her eyes at the extravagance—were those gold forks?! She thought of all the other initiatives that she could have put in place with all of the money that they spent on this one unnecessary-in-every-way glorified dance. She shrugged off the top coat-like part of her dress, revealing the lace flowers and ivy. Ginny gushed over the design.

Hermione allowed her eyes to wonder the room as Kingsley gave his light hearted speech about equality and acceptance. The enormous hall was decorated lavishly and seemed to sparkle gold. It appeared that they had charmed glitter to float through the air. The hall had twelve twinkling glass chandeliers, candles floating majestically over everyone's head (reminding her of Hogwarts and making her nostalgic), and a stage with a large band that was currently listening to Kingsley's speech. To the right was a large open archway that lead to what appeared to be flowering gardens covered in snow, to the left was a large bar and a snack table, and in the middle was a dance floor the size of the entire Great Hall. Round tables of varying sizes overflowing with witches and wizards filled in every empty spot in the room. Hermione distinguished in the back corner a large conglomerate of children being supervised by two witches and a wizard. There must have been a silencing spell in place because the children appeared to be screaming and playing tag, but Hermione heard nothing from their far corner. Her head whipped around suddenly when she heard her name being called.

"…Hermione Granger, who will be discussing a new program that all witches and wizards must follow, as decreed and agreed upon by the Wizengamot eight months ago. Hermione, please come up to the stage," Kingsley said kindly.

Hermione clambered to her feet ungracefully and blushed her way to the stage and up the stairs while her entire table erupted in hoots and cheers. She glared at them briefly before allowing herself to smile out at the huge crowd of unfamiliar faces. She cleared her throat and started her well-prepared and entirely memorised speech.

"Thank you, Mister Minister. I am honoured to be here today to speak to you about a mandatory workshop series for all witches and wizards. It is in regards to lingering sentiments of prejudice and hatred within our wizarding community," several people shifted uncomfortably and tried and failed to not glance over at the pureblood tables, which were all more or less located near the gardens. "I would like to be clear when I say that _all_ witches, wizards, squibs, and any magical creatures must attend these workshops over the next year." She began to hear some tittering and complaints from the crowd. "This is because," Hermione ploughed on, "many believe that if they were on the winning side of the War that they are not prejudiced, that they are not perpetrating hateful behaviour. They would be wrong," a tense silence. "In discriminating against those who discriminated against us, we become worse than the original discriminators. We continue these feelings of anger, of hatred, except that we are now the oppressors." Hermione swore that even the children in the back had stopped playing, sensing the tension in the ballroom. "So this workshop series is six two-hour sessions, one a month for six months starting in February. For those who are under the age of 17, there will be a mandatory course delivered directly in Hogwarts by a team that I have hand selected, including myself."

For some reason or another she spotted Draco in the pureblood crowd, sitting beside Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. His blond hair, which she now noticed was styled in a perfect messy fashion, was like a beacon calling out to her. She delivered the rest of her speech while holding eye contact with the blond the whole time.

"Not only do we hope to further understanding of Muggles and Muggle culture, we hope to end all discrimination based on blood purity. I look forward to working with you and growing with you," she concluded.

A smattering of applause met the end of her speech, very few people looking thrilled about the announcement of twelve hours of education that they would have to sit through. However, everyone at her table cheered furiously, and Hermione noted that Draco clapped politely, his face not betraying anything about his emotions. She found this odd, considering Theodore Nott was on her committee as a workshop facilitator; she would have thought that his table would be more enthusiastic and supportive of him, instead they all clapped in a disinterested manner. Perhaps it was a pureblood thing that she would never understand…

Kingsley retook the stage with a large smile. "Indeed, truly a great opportunity. Thank you, Hermione. Okay, let's eat, shall we?"

Hermione was glad to have food sitting in front of her by the time she had returned to her table, more than happy to bury her face in food; she hated public speaking. Somehow gazing at Draco had steeled her nerves and allowed her to finish on a powerful note. Something was off with her today; first the staring into his eyes, now him giving her confidence. This was the first time that she had looked him in the eyes in six years and she seemed incapable of tearing her eyes away from his own.

"Most people took the news of your program fairly well," commented Ginny around a mouthful of broccoli soup, an odd favourite of hers during her pregnancy.

"I did notice a few grumblers, and not who I was expecting," replied Hermione, removing her satin gloves and digging in.

"Most people who were on the winning side of the war don't want to have to learn about prejudice since they suffered it already," said Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes, used to his complaints. "Yes I know, Ron, this is why we need them to have these conversations. You'll see when you do your sessions."

"When _I?_ I have to do them?" whined Ron.

"Of course you have to do them! Have you listened to me at all over the past eight months while I've been planning this?" Hermione huffed. Clearly Ron hadn't.

She thought to herself how glad she was that she had split up with him five years previous, she really couldn't handle him sometimes. Luckily Luna swooped in and made one of her odd comments about nargles or what have you. Hermione took that distraction to strike up a conversation with Neville about Hogwarts and herbology.

-x-

"I understand the point of the program, I just honestly don't have the time," Pansy Parkinson was saying to Theodore Nott.

"Yes Pansy we all know how busy you are…" Theo said with a roll of his clear blue eyes.

Draco allowed his eyes to wander while Pansy went on about her busy schedule that was just impossible to keep up with. They of course, landed on Hermione Granger, located several tables in front of his. Her back was to him, so his eyes admired her tangle of dark brown curls, appreciating the way that they pulled to the side to reveal her dark slender neck. She was currently laughing at something that one of the Weasley's was saying. Draco wasn't entirely sure if it was George or Percy speaking, as he never paid much attention to the Weasley's during school, a part from mocking them.

"Of course I don't think that I deserve special treatment Theo," Pansy was saying in a way that clearly indicated that she did indeed think that she needed special treatment. "I just think that there should be more consideration of people's schedules before this program was passed."

"There's plenty of consideration," Theo snapped, becoming exacerbated, "Why else did we split it up into chunks and give everyone several choices in regards to dates and times?"

Pansy rolled her eyes and ignored his rebuttal. "I'm just saying, I'm a busy person."

"Just let it go Pansy," Blaise finally piped in, growing tired of their semi-argument.

"Draco," Pansy said, pulling his gaze away from Hermione Granger's enticing body.

"Hmm?"

"How's work? I feel as if I never see your pale face sulking around my house anymore."

"You have such a way with words, Pansy," he responded.

She smiled evilly, her deep red lipstick revealing her white teeth. "Seriously, I feel as if I have to drag you out of your flat just to get you to show up to my events. And I provide top quality food, free firewhiskey, and single women."

"Speaking of women," Blaise cut in, seeing Astoria Greengrass waltzing her way toward them.

"How are you all tonight?" she asked in her _I am better than thou_ voice.

Draco rolled his eyes, not believing that he had ever dated her. Astoria always insisted on showing up twenty minutes late, because she felt as if no one who meant anything showed up _on time. _She sauntered over to the empty chair next to Blaise, who seemed more than content to welcome her.

"Did I miss anything important?" she asked, not really caring for the answer.

"Well there was the official announcement of the anti-discrimination program that Hermione Granger is running," Theo said.

"The anti-what?"

"And that I am helping to run," he added on.

Astoria stared at him in shock.

"I know you're used to having your mouth open, but it may have escaped your notice that you're not on your bony knees. You might want to close it, we're in public, dear," Pansy quipped, never one to miss a chance to mock the blonde.

Astoria just opened her mouth wider in shock and offense. Blaise had to stop himself from laughing—he passed it off as having a coughing fit rather unsuccessfully.

"Don't be so rude, Pansy," Theo berated.

"I was just stating the truth," she commented snidely.

"I think that someone's a little jealous that more men are interested in me than you," Astoria sneered back.

Draco rolled his eyes. "When will you two get over this petty rivalry that you have for no reason at all?" he questioned, wanting more than anything to return to his examination of Hermione Granger's tantalizing neck.

Astoria ignored them and instead engaged Blaise in an in-depth discussion about the latest party that she had attended. Pansy went back to whining about how busy she was and Theo continued to explain the benefits of the program, despite many people's hesitations. Draco was happy to return his gaze to Hermione, only to note that she was no longer in her seat. He scanned the massive ballroom, trying to look nonchalant, and probably (definitely) failing, but luckily for him his friends were too busy discussing among themselves to care what he was doing. He located her heading toward the loo with a very pregnant Ginny Weasley waddling beside her. Draco relaxed, thinking for some strange reason that she had left the Ball without him—as if she were going to leave that night with him. He laughed to himself at such a ridiculous thought. Why on earth would Hermione Granger ever leave the Ball with him?

"You think that this is a joke now too, Draco?" Theo asked, annoyed.

"Huh?" Draco responded intelligently.

"What were you smiling about?" Pansy interrogated him, looking around the room suspiciously.

"How ridiculous it is that you lot are fighting over this. Whether you agree or disagree, it's mandatory, so you have to do it," he lied smoothly.

Just then dessert appeared on the tables; piles of different flavoured ice creams, cakes, tarts, pies, cookies, brownies, snow cones, you name it, they got it. Draco cut himself an indecently large piece of chocolate cake. They always had the most amazing chocolate cake at the Yule Ball, and Pansy refused to tell him who did the catering, even though she was in charge of the entire event. _Prat_.

"And we've lost Draco for the night," Blaise commented with a laugh as Draco's eyes rolled back in delight.

He cut himself another piece, not having heard Blaise's comments or even feeling his friend's gazes trained on him. When that cake made its way on the table he really had a one track mind. In fact, he usually avoided eating dinner at all in order to leave room for the cake. And there was only ever a very small cake—which he always ate all of—located at each table. Which seemed very unfair, as far as delicious cakes and their necessity to be shared with the world goes. It was not until Draco reached the end of the cake, begrudgingly sharing a small piece with his table mates, that he finally became more aware of the world around him. More particularly, the fact that Hermione Granger had a large piece of _his_ favourite cake on a small plate and was wandering in the direction of the gardens, _alone_.

Draco could not believe his luck.

He calmly rose to his feet, so as not to arouse suspicion among his friends and mumbled a few incoherent parting words before trailing quickly after Hermione into the gardens. They were full of hedges, sculptures, fairy lights, decorated with fake snow that was warm to the touch, and the whole area was magically warmed. They were also fairly empty as it was still quite early in the evening. He followed at a far enough distance, so it seemed as if it were merely a coincidence that he was there. She strolled around aimlessly, finally stopping in front of a statue of a golden sphinx. He watched as she set down her champagne glass that he hadn't noticed that she was carrying in order to eat a forkful of his—er—her cake.

Draco glided up beside her and stopped to admire the sphinx as well, eyeing the cake from the corner of his eye.

"Good evening again, Granger," he said smoothly.

She jumped slightly, apparently thinking herself alone. She glanced up at him and then away again very quickly. "Er—hello," she said awkwardly. "Are you enjoying the evening so far?"

"Indeed," he said softly, turning himself ever so slightly to face her. Hermione could have sworn that she saw him eyeing her cake. "I meant to mention, I'm not sure if Theo has let you know or not, but I am a big supporter of your new program, and I would love to personally sponsor it."

Hermione looked back up at him again, in shock. Momentarily forgetting that she felt awkward around him due to their shared and never discussed past, she yelped, "You what?"

"Yes, I think that a lot of people, well in fact, all of us can and will benefit from a program that helps to reveal our own prejudices, even if we are unaware that we have any."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly suspicious; this seemed too good to be true. "Is this so that your business gets good publicity and so that you can clear your name?"

Draco looked very offended and Hermione knew she had overstepped.

"I think that your own prejudices toward me may be clouding your judgement," he replied stiffly with narrowed eyes. Hermione didn't like the way his face changed when he was frowning, it reminded her too much of his later years at Hogwarts.

"I was going to make the donation a private one," Draco continued, "so no publicity would stem from it, unless you thought that it could help your cause in turning more purebloods over to your side," he drawled.

Hermione blushed, once again cursing the fact that she was not as dark-skinned as her father. There was an awkward silence where they held each other's gaze. Hermione cleared her throat. "I apologise," she said finally. "Even I find it hard to forget the past, sometimes."

"Apology accepted, only if you agree to accept my donation." A smile was tugging the corner of his lips up.

"I feel as if you were hoping the conversation would go this way so that I would back myself into a corner, and end up giving you exactly what you wanted." Draco merely smiled smugly in response. "And, upon reflection, the program would benefit from your public sponsorship…" she sighed, realising that this was actually quite a good idea. "Okay fine," Hermione conceded.

"And one more thing," Draco added suddenly.

"What now? You want to hold a press conference stating all of this?" she asked sarcastically.

"Not a bad idea, Granger. Deal. But I was going to say—"

"You mean you weren't going to say that…?" she groaned at her mistake.

"I was going to say, that you have to give me some of that cake."

_So he was eyeing my cake earlier_. "An odd request, but I suppose…" she agreed resignedly, despite the fact that this was her favourite cake of all time.

She lifted her plate and offered him her fork. Draco took it and eagerly cut off a small piece. However, instead of eating the smaller piece, he took the large majority of her cake and stuffed it into his mouth, leaving the sliver that he had cut. She would have been angrier if the sight of Draco Malfoy with a mouth full of cake wasn't so hilarious to her. In fact she started laughing as he tried to swallow his large mouthful of cake.

"Who would have thought that the highly sophisticated Draco Malfoy would behave in such a base manner," she mocked, a smile on her lips.

"No one will believe you," he countered once his mouth was once again devoid of the most heavenly cake on earth, reaching around her to her glass of champagne. He took a sip and sighed in delight.

"Hey!" she protested. "Give that back."

"Give what back?" he asked, the flute now empty.

"That was awfully rude, Malfoy."

"I owe you a slice of cake and a glass of champagne then."

"Yes, you do!"

A wind blew its way through the magically enchanted gardens making Hermione shiver; the warming charm must have been weak in the edges of the gardens. She glanced over at Draco to tell him that she was going to return to her friends when she noticed that he was eyeing her up and down. She blushed again, shivering once more, although there was no breeze to blame it on.

"Did I mention that you look lovely tonight, Miss Granger?" Draco asked in that smooth voice of his.

Hermione avoided his gaze, feeling distinctly hot with his eyes trailing her body. "Er—no?" She tried to remember the last time that Malfoy had ever complimented her. The only thing that came to mind was when she had made him cookies that one time…

"Then I have not been a gentleman, have I? You look very lovely this evening, Miss Granger," he said smoothly, stepping toward her ever so slightly.

"Thanks…" she said awkwardly. "You—er—also look—nice, Malfoy" she said with a gesture to his three-piece suit now clearly visible without his travel cloak on. Hermione forced herself to look away from his body when her eyes started to wander over it without her permission, remembering more vividly than she thought possible how he felt pressed against her in the study room.

Draco smirked.

"Please, call me Draco," he said taking another small step closer to her, and making Hermione's heart start to race; he really was quite tall.

Hermione felt as if she had to say, "You can call me Hermione, it does feel a little silly when you call me Granger because we have known each other most of our lives…and you used to call me…" Hermione trailed off, her body heating up at the memory of the time when he used to call her by her given name.

"Of course, Hermione," he said, her name rolling off of his tongue in a way that made her shiver again.

Just as Draco was stepping even closer to her, so that they were only a few inches away Hermione murmured quietly: "I should probably be getting…"

Draco took another step closer and held out his arm. "How about that glass of champagne?"

Hermione, unable to find a reasonable excuse ended up linking arms with him for the second time that night and allowed him to gracefully tug her back toward the ballroom.

As they approached the ballroom Hermione suddenly became aware of who she was on the arm of, and what people would think; the two of them emerging, alone, from the gardens…

She found herself unexpectedly not caring what those around her thought. If she was trying to spearhead burying the hatchet, what better way to show it than to be arm in arm with Draco Malfoy, one of the most well-known blood purity prosecutors? And she did believe that he was reformed. She had followed his career over the years in the papers and seen how he had distanced himself from his family, donated all the dark artefacts from the Manor to the Ministry to examine and destroy, served his one year of community service in Muggle London without complaint, returned to London and started up his own innovative potion business that dealt primarily with developing potions to treat post-traumatic stress and worked in conjunction with St. Mungo's, etc. He had really been making an effort over the past five or so years to change the image that he held in their society. However, Hermione thought that it was more than that, she thought that he was sincerely trying to be a better person, his PTSD potions really proved his dedication. And here he was not only rescuing her from a barrage of press earlier that evening, but now offering her his arm and sharing food off of her plate. He had definitely changed since the last time that she had spoken to him, which if memory served correctly was just before the end of the War in the Room of Requirement. Of course, she had testified at his court trial, and seen him there, but there was no conversation between them, just a letter sent by an overly pompous owl with a simple thank you written inside of it and a delicious box of chocolate chip cookies.

"I think people may be staring," he commented mildly as he directed them toward the bar.

His statement brought Hermione back down to earth and she quickly noticed several pairs of eyes staring in her direction, it was hard to tell whether they were happy or not though. Either way, she yet again felt herself heating up.

"You blush a lot," Draco commented, glancing in her direction.

"Most people don't notice."

"You're skin isn't really that dark."

Hermione didn't know what to say to this, so she shrugged in response.

"Don't worry, it suits you, like a natural rouge," he smiled down at her.

She just continued to blush fiercely. Fortunately, they had arrived at the bar by this point.

"Two champagnes please," Draco ordered happily.

Hermione gently unhooked her arm from his and sat down on a bar stool as they waited for their order. She turned to look at her blond companion, realising again how truly striking he looked that evening in his suit, and styled hair.

"Please know that I don't mean to be offensive when I ask this," Hermione started, "But why are you talking to me?"

Draco smiled lopsidedly. The bartender handed them their champagne and Draco tipped him generously, despite the fact that everything was paid for with your ticket and the bar tenders were already pre-tipped for the night by the Ministry.

"I have to be frank, Hermione," he said quietly, leaning toward her on his stool. Hermione found herself leaning in to hear over the jazz music and general buzz of the crowd. "You look very lovely this evening. I have noticed you every year at this Ball, looking…" he eyed her up and down again, lingering on her lace-clad chest, "stunning." Hermione gulped and he leaned even closer. "And I just thought, after the announcement of your program, that amazing dress, and the fact that it's Yule…well, 'tis the season." Draco was staring deep into her eyes and she smiled widely. "And of course I wanted some of that chocolate cake." Draco raised his glass of champagne. "Cheers."

Hermione clinked her glass with his and downed it in one swig, apparently having decided that she needed alcohol in her system to process that response. Not to mention that she was going to be dealing with Draco for what seemed like at least a few more hours that night. The bar tender already had another one ready for her in hand. She smiled gratefully and shifted in her seat to watch as people began taking the dance floor.

Draco was suddenly standing in front of her.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked.

Draco had two very small, hardly noticeable red patches high on his cheekbones. Hermione mused that he was either slightly tipsy, or afraid of her response being negative. Which he shouldn't have been because for some reason or another Hermione nodded her head yes, chugging her third champagne, and not caring that people were staring—including her entire table of friends, as well as his—as Draco lead her to the dance floor, his warm hand in hers.

Hermione felt like a princess as Draco twirled her around the dance floor expertly. He had clearly had some sort of formal training because he moved to the beat perfectly, leading her flawlessly, making her dress flare out beautifully, and pulling her close to him so that she swore she could feel his erratic heartbeat. Out of the corner of her eye she would notice her friends from time to time, staring at her with the same amount of bewilderment, but none of them daring to walk up to her to ask her if she was out of her mind or just very, very, very drunk. For which Hermione was glad, because she was having a surprisingly good time in Draco's strong arms. They glided across the ballroom for what felt like hours, and it might have been.

She looked up at him as they continued to waltz to the slow beat, the dance floor full around them. Draco was smiling ever so slightly as he held her gaze.

"Would you care for another drink?" he asked without breaking their perfect rhythm.

"Yes please," Hermione said somewhat breathlessly. Up to this point she had been trying to avoid his gaze because it always seemed to do weird things to her ability to breathe, which was a real problem for her livelihood.

As Draco led her to the bar, her arm linked with his, she felt oddly giddy. For some reason she trusted him completely as he lead her toward the gardens again, each of them with another flute of champagne in hand. They both sat on a bench in a secluded corner lit up by thousands of fireflies. Hermione was surprisingly close to Draco on the bench. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the less than perfect warming charm, but they were sitting so close that their arms were touching.

"I must admit, you're a very good dancer, Draco," she said, still feeling odd using his given name again.

"I should hope so after all the money we paid for lessons."

"Of course you've taken dance lessons."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" he teased.

Hermione was going to deny it, but instead decided to be truthful: "Something that I hate and love about you purebloods is that you all look so bloody graceful all the time, maybe if I had had some dance training or…I don't know, fencing training I wouldn't be so clumsy all the time. You just walk with this sort of grace that seems impossible to achieve and I feel like I stomp around like a mountain troll."

Draco smirked. "I am graceful, but I would say that you're a far cry from a troll. Maybe I'll teach you to dance sometime."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Draco smirked at her. "It's a date."

Hermione chuckled, assuming that he was joking and went back to staring at the fireflies twirling around them. They sat in silence for a while longer, until Hermione felt herself starting to shiver. Draco took off his suit jacket and draped it over her before she could protest. Hermione yawned and placed her empty champagne glass on the bench, and rested her head on Draco's shoulder. She felt his shoulders stiffen ever so slightly before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him. Hermione sighed, oddly comfortable in his arms, and for some unknown reason, _wanting_ to be in his arms.

Draco broke the silence, a while later. "I feel as if we missed out on the chance of a friendship, you and I."

"How do you mean?" she asked to fill the silence, even though she knew the answer.

"We were almost friends. Before I decided…" he trailed off, clearly overwhelmed by his past decision despite the many years separating him from it. "Because I spent so much time hating you, and making you hate me. We could have been friends. We never recognised how much we have in common."

"I don't think that we have that much in common," she countered.

"Of course we do."

"How so?"

"We're both incredibly smart, and care greatly for intelligence."

"I suppose…"

"And, we both care about new innovations, changing the past, and all that other nonsense."

Hermione lifted her head to look up at him, smiling at his flippant attitude.

"And most importantly, we're both incredibly attractive," he said with a wink, causing butterflies to erupt in her stomach and a blush to rise to her cheeks.

Hermione took a sip of her champagne in lieu of responding to his compliment, or commenting on the fact that she did indeed find him incredibly attractive. She was in no way used to this joking Draco. Even when they were on amicable terms, meaning when they studied together and randomly snogged, he had never been so light hearted. It was nice to see.

"What do you say, Hermione, why don't we start again?"

Hermione looked down at the hand that he was offering her and she shook it slowly, a smile on her lips. "I'm Hermione Granger, a pleasure to meet you."

"Draco Malfoy, enchanté." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed in lightly.

Hermione shivered again, in no way because of the less than adequate warming charm.

"It is fairly chilly out, let's go back inside for another glass of champagne and a dance?" Draco suggested in a way that was less of a question and more of a statement.

"That sounds lovely," Hermione agreed, allowing him to pull her back into the ballroom wordlessly.

A few minutes later Hermione and Draco were once again twirling their way across the expansive dance floor. From time to time Draco would comment on people's clothing, making off-hand remarks that caused Hermione to smother her face into his chest in order to muffle her outrageously inappropriate and rude giggles. Perhaps she had had enough to drink for the night, she thought, her face hot from Draco's proximity and her consumption of champagne. Just as she thought this, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into their path and politely asked Hermione if he could cut in. Draco graciously stepped away, although his face flickered with annoyance for half a second. Only Hermione seemed to notice before she was being whisked away, surprisingly expertly by the aging Minister for Magic.

The moment that Draco was separated from Hermione, Pansy and Blaise dragged him back to their table in order to interrogate him.

"Why're you with Granger?"

"Are you two sleeping together?"

"What's she like in bed?"

"You must have another reason for being with her."

"Don't tell me she's pregnant!"

"She does look pretty in that dress," Pansy conceded.

"Will you two settle down?" Theo called from across the table. "Draco can very well see whomever he wishes. Not that he and Hermione are together." Draco bristled interiorly at the second part of this phrase.

"Indeed. I am simply trying to mend some bridges that were burned ages ago," Draco finally commented, seeming entirely unaffected by their questions.

"You've been spending an awful amount of time with her to be only interested in atoning for the past," Blaise added.

Draco merely rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to seek out the brunette in question.

"Are we really having this discussion right now?" Theo piped in. "Who gives two shits who Draco's interested in? It's the Yule Ball, have some free champagne and shut up."

"Okay, Mr. Grumpy," Pansy commented, "Just because you're going home alone tonight doesn't mean you have to take it out on the rest of us."

"What do you mean, I'm going home alone?" Theo asked defiantly.

"The night's already half over, at this point there's no way that—"

Theo rose to his feet, his nose held high. "Challenge accepted."

Pansy and Blaise broke out in hysterical laughter; Theo was incredibly shy around people that he did not know, especially men (which posed a wee problem seeing as it was men that he was interested in). Draco hoped that their teasing would actually push him to find someone for the night, though. Theo walked away briskly, heading toward the bar and downing a flute of champagne in one go. Draco, Blaise and Pansy watched, dumbstruck, as he approached Ernie MacMillan. The two spoke briefly and, as the Slytherins watched, Theo extended a hand to Ernie. Ernie hesitated a moment before accepting and being pulled to the dance floor. The couple seemed to be joking with one another as they shuffled around, Ernie clearly having no skill when it came to dance.

"Well colour me surprised," Draco said under his breath.

"Here I thought that MacMillan was dating someone…" Pansy pondered.

"Theo can't go home with someone if I don't," Blaise whined. Just then he caught sight of Astoria sauntering into the ballroom from the direction of the loos. Blaise sprung to his feet, throwing "Happy Yule" over his shoulder to his friends as he went.

Draco sank into a seat at his table, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing floating serving tray. He slowly drank it watching Hermione smiling and laughing with the Minister. He was far more jealous than he ought to have been. Draco looked back at Theo and was surprised to see that he was still dancing with Ernie. He then allowed his eyes to wander again to find Hermione no longer in the arms of the Minister, but in her ex-boyfriends. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists subconsciously.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "You're terrible at hiding your emotions when it comes to that one." She stood and grabbed Draco's hand. "C'mon, let's dance."

Draco sighed, but allowed himself to be lead onto the dance floor by his best friend, who was sauntering in front of him. She brought them to the dead centre and pulled Draco close. They swayed from side to side gently, Draco distinctly uncomfortable with Pansy's proximity.

"Oh calm down," she berated, glancing over her shoulder. "I'm just getting your lady love's attention."

Draco looked up to see Hermione and Ron had momentarily stopped dancing and were, in fact, staring in their direction. For some reason Draco felt as if he owed Hermione an apology or an explanation for Pansy's closeness, instead he pretended not to see her and continued to sway with Pansy.

"You are a genius."

"And you don't tell me often enough. Now bring us closer to them so that I can pretend to trip and break them up. Don't worry, I'll take care of Weasley," she said determinedly.

And Draco did just that, bringing them almost right up beside Hermione and Ron, but making it seem as if he were just moving across the dance floor as he normally would. Pansy suddenly teetered on her death trap high heels and careened into Ron, who caught her.

"Thank you, Weasley," Pansy gushed, keeping herself firmly in his arms and smiling up at him broadly.

Ron seemed to be taken off guard by her open smile and was already slightly red in the face. Pansy was good.

Pansy looked back at Hermione who was standing there awkwardly staring at Pansy, who was still in Ron's arms. Draco stood beside her, acting like a useless first year. Pansy sighed internally, but externally smiled brightly up at the red head in front of her, completely ignoring Draco and Hermione. She made herself stumble again and Ron caught her, blushing fiercely. Pansy giggled, deciding to act much more drunk than she actually was. Without further ado, she dragged him away from Hermione, babbling incoherently about his absolute need to try some of the pie at her table.

Hermione watched as Pansy bore Ron away with little difficulty despite her much smaller frame. Hermione fidgeted with her dress and looked back up at Draco who, for his part, was looking as awkward as she did for once.

"It would appear our dance partners eloped with one another," Draco joked.

Hermione smiled radiantly, secretly quite happy to be done dancing with Ron, he was nowhere as near as talented as Draco, and beyond one dance together it got awkward because of their past. Of course they were still great friends, but certain things had changed and spending too much time pressed against one another made things start to get a little uncomfortable.

Draco suddenly leaned into her and pointed to a far off table in the back corner of the ballroom. "Do you see what I see?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Hermione followed his pointing finger to a plate. A plate full of cake. Full of delicious chocolate cake that only made its appearance once a year at the Yule Ball…

"That's mine!" she claimed, careening off toward said plate of deliciousness.

Draco was close behind her. Neither of them cared that several heads had turned to watch what appeared to be Draco Malfoy chasing Hermione Granger, who, for her part, had a huge smile on her face. Somehow Hermione made it to the table first, Draco must have let her because she was shit at running in heels, bewitched or not, and equally shit at running. Perhaps back during the War she could have given the blond a run for his money, but her desk job hardly lent her to keeping up her endurance. She grabbed a fork that looked clean and stabbed at the cake greedily. Before she could bring the fork to her mouth, however, Draco's hand had diverted its path with the reflexes of someone who was formerly Quidditch captain and seeker. She watched in horror as he ate _her _piece of cake.

"I thought that we established that you were the one that owes me cake!" she complained.

Draco smiled cheekily and cut off another piece with his stolen fork. "Next year?" he suggested with a shoulder shrug, eating even more of her precious cake.

"This is ridiculous Malfoy. Start acting like an adult, please. I would like that cake," she reproached sternly.

Draco just laughed in her face. "How about I get you more champagne?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No." She thought that he had been far too nice that night; his true colours were starting to show.

Draco shrugged. "Your choice." He stuffed even more cake into his mouth.

Draco grabbed the entire plate that the cake was on and took a seat in their secluded corner. Hermione glared at him. He finished the cake in less than thirty seconds. It was actually quite impressive were he not being a prat and stealing from her. She glared at him the whole time.

"I think we should address the elephant in the room," he piped up after wiping his mouth with a napkin primly, apparently back to being a proper gentleman.

Hermione looked at him, confused. "The fact that you have a serious problem with chocolate cake?"

He gave her a significant look. "The study room…"

Hermione found herself blushing again. That room brought back such mixed emotions for her. Above all, it reminded her of her former intimacy with the man in front of her. Of the fact that he had almost changed sides in the War. That he had given her her first orgasm… Hermione was really blushing quite fiercely now. She realised that she had been awkwardly staring at him for several moments by that point.

Draco smiled back ruefully, apparently on the same wavelength as her. He quickly became serious. "I wish that I had taken you up on your many offers, Hermione. I really wish that I had. Our—my life would be so much different if I had only had the courage…" he trailed off darkly.

Hermione found that she sobered up quite quickly. "Draco, you were under enormous pressure, please don't blame yourself." She took a seat beside him, taking his hand into hers.

He was no longer looking at Hermione. "But I am to blame. I was given so many chances…I could have…"

"You are not to blame here, Voldemort, may his soul burn in hell, is to blame. You were a child—"

"So were you!" he countered. "And look what you did! Look what you're still doing. You made the right choices. I—I should have said yes to you all those years ago."

"I wish you had, Draco. But like I said, you were a child who was made to believe that what you believed and what you did was right, and when you wanted to leave you couldn't or they would have killed everyone that you loved. I hardly see that as being cowardly," she replied sincerely, trying to catch his eye again, but he was resolutely looking away. "Now how about we dance for a little longer before the band leaves," she suggested, much less preferring this brooding Malfoy to the light hearted one that she had seen most of the night. He reminded her too much of their sixth year.

Draco looked at her slightly confused. She smiled widely and stood, teetering slightly on her heels that she had forgotten that she was wearing. Hermione held out her hand and Draco slowly placed his in it. Her heart sped up ever so slightly upon contact with him and she smiled dazzlingly as she led him back onto the thinning dance floor.

They waltzed or tangoed or whatevered across the ballroom with the same grace that Draco had been showing all night. They were, however, pressed closer together than before. In fact, Hermione suddenly realised, her head was resting against his shoulder and her whole front was flush with him. She didn't notice if she was the one who did so or if it had been Draco who had pulled them together. Either way, despite the years that had kept them separate, it had been as if they saw each other every day; her body was so reactive to being pressed against his. A warm fluttering feeling filled her abdomen.

Draco's hand, which was placed gently on her waist as they swayed, suddenly tensed. Hermione raised her head to look up at him in confusion. He was looking over her head at someone approaching. She turned and saw Harry, Ginny, Ron, and—she did a double take—Pansy (who was leaning on Ron quite drunkenly) walking toward them on the mostly empty marble floor. Hermione reluctantly pulled herself from Draco's arms and stood beside him, although she was still quite close, they were not touching.

"Hey," Hermione said softly to her friends.

"Hey," Ginny yawned loudly, a hand on her protruding belly.

"We're going to head home for the night," Harry said awkwardly, glancing between Hermione and Draco.

Hermione nodded, unsure why they were telling her this since she did not live with them. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she confirmed.

"Of course," Ginny nodded tiredly. "Don't forget it's your turn to bring drinks."

Hermione groaned. "But you all always complain with my choices. Why am I even still on the drinks list?"

"We'll see you tomorrow, Hermione," Harry confirmed with a smile. "Er—goodnight, Malfoy." He added awkwardly.

Draco nodded curtly. "Potter, Ginny."

Hermione found it odd that he called Ginny by her first name and not Harry. She would have to ask him about that later. That is if she was going to have a conversation with him later. Hermione hugged Ginny around her belly and gave Harry a quick one armed hug. Before the couple walked and waddled away.

Hermione looked from Ron to Pansy, unsure what was happening there. Pansy was smiling wanly, he head rested on Ron's shoulder. "Are you leaving too, Ron?" she asked slowly, trying to ask subtly ask if he was going to be leaving with Pansy on his arm.

"Pansy won't leave me alone," he grumbled, clearly loud enough for her to hear.

Hermione saw Pansy wink at Draco. Hermione looked back at Draco who was smirking. '_What was Pansy doing_' Hermione pondered.

"Perhaps you should be getting home, Pans," Draco suggested. "But I don't think that you should go alone, you're in quite a state. I myself would love to help you there, but unfortunately you banned me from your property a few weeks ago after I started that rumour about…well best not to repeat it…" Draco lied smoothly.

"I could—" Hermione started to say before Pansy cut her off.

"Ron said he'd take me," she said drunkenly, although Hermione doubted her greatly.

Hermione frowned. "I really—"

"Very kind of him…" Pansy continued, patting Ron on the shoulder gently. "Goodnight!" she proclaimed before stumbling forward, dragging an unwilling Ron in her wake.

He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione looking stricken.

"Good night," she called back faintly. "And good luck," she added to Ron, which didn't seem to help his resolve.

Once again alone with Draco, Hermione noticed how empty the ballroom was. She glanced at Draco's watch and her eyes widened, it was well after midnight! She hadn't realised how much time had passed while she was with Draco, and if truth be told, she didn't want to leave his presence. The night had been so magical. She hadn't realised how much she missed just sitting beside him, even if it was in silence as they had done in the gardens earlier that evening.

"I think I should probably head home too," she said quietly, not looking into his eyes, because she feared what she might do to him if she were to look into those hypnotizing depths.

"Let me walk you to the apparition point," he insisted.

Hermione happily linked her arm with his as she had done countless times that night and the duo walked the short distance to the lobby in amicable silence. They saw a much smaller line of press waiting past the privacy line.

"I would really have hoped that they had left by now," Hermione grumbled.

"That would just make this night too perfect," Draco commented offhandedly.

Hermione's eyes widened. _Did he mean that he thought that tonight had been almost perfect?_ They had spent almost the entire night attached to one another. _Did that mean…?_

"I suppose I will be seeing you soon for our little press conference then?" Draco asked, bringing her back down to earth.

"Ah yes." Hermione opened her beaded bag and summoned a parchment and quill with slightly shaking hands. She tried to hide how much his presence affected her by asking, "When are you free?"

Something flashed in Draco's eyes before he responded, "Tomorrow at 7."

Hermione frowned, "A bit odd to do a press conference on a weekend, and so late..."

"I meant for dinner," he said smoothly.

Hermione blushed deeply again. "I-I-I…"

"You can pick me up outside of the Ministry. I know a quaint little restaurant just around the corner from there."

"But…you—we—I," she continued to babble.

"Please breathe, Granger. It's just dinner between two old enemies turned friends. I'd love to hear what you've been up to over the past seven years. The press conference can happen next Wednesday. At 2 pm. I'll have my secretary owl you the details." With that Draco Malfoy strode off into the buzz of the lobby and apparated away.

Hermione stood dumbstruck for another minute before she gathered her wits about her and too headed into the press firing squad. And how suspect did it look; her arriving mere seconds before Draco, the two of them walking in together, then the two of them leaving within moments of one another. Not to mention the fact that they were going to be going on a date. A DATE. How did that even happen? She questioned as reporters harassed her.

"When should we expect to hear the engagement announcement?"

"How long have you two been dating?"

"Are you or are you not seeing Draco Malfoy?"

Etc., etc. Except for once, their ridiculous questions weren't that far off the mark. Hermione realised with a start that she was going to have to inform her friends that she could not attend their weekly Sunday gathering that week because of her date. She dreaded their reaction to her short letter stating that she was going out with Draco Malfoy instead of visiting her best friends. She did consider for a moment not telling them at all about the date and saying that work had called her in, or even that it wasn't the blond headed terror that she was going out with. But she found that she didn't want to lie to her friends, and as someone who preached equality, she shouldn't be ashamed of her date. Either way, she was not looking forward to Ginny's hormonal reproaches (and possibly encouragements) or Harry and Ron's questions. And she was even less excited for the articles that were likely to appear in every wizarding newspaper in existence. She was, on the other hand, looking forward to her date with Draco.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Date

Hermione paced in front of the mirror nervously. Why she was so nervous, she was unsure. It was just Draco Malfoy. Sure, he was incredibly wealthy, recently reformed Death Eater, extremely handsome and intelligent, and of course the first man to ever make her orgasm. Oh right, that little fact that she could not push to the back of her head no matter how hard she tried. For some reason, at the Ball she completely forgot this extremely large fact about their past, or at least she was able to look past it. But now whenever she was imagining facing the blond her only thought was how it felt to have his finger—

Crookshanks meowed, snapping her out of her thoughts. Hermione pat his fluffy head and flicked her wand to fill up his food bowl. Her bowlegged fuzz ball hurried into the kitchen to eat dinner. Hermione returned her gaze to the mirror. She really ought not to be putting so much thought into what she was wearing. What she wore should be less important than her actual presence, right? At least, this was a belief that she always held firm to. However, Draco's presence was making this very hard to remember. She huffed and pulled the dress off over her head, deciding that it was too fancy. Hermione rifled through her drawers until she came upon a tighter pair of black jeans and a flowy turquoise shirt. She decided that this would have to do. It was not overly formal or flattering, so he wouldn't think that she was trying to impress him, but it was also acceptable to wear to a slightly less fancy restaurant. Hermione pulled out her mascara and inexpertly dabbed at her eyelashes. She also opted for a small amount of gloss on her lips.

For the _n_th time she was questioning why she had not simply backed out of this date. This was Draco flipping Malfoy for Morgana's sake! Hermione sighed. She found herself being pulled toward him like she was back in the study room. She couldn't explain it, but perhaps she had been avoiding him all of these years in order to avoid re-igniting the bizarre need that she had just to be in his presence. That had been her favourite part from the Ball the night before; just being near him in companionable silence. It was too reminiscent of the study room.

Hermione shook her head trying to dispel the images of Draco snogging her senseless the last time that she had seen him there. That night had of course been followed by him letting the Death Eaters into the castle and the death of Albus Dumbledore. Hermione's heart panged. She knew that he didn't want any of it to happen. But it had. And he had been trying to make up for it ever since the end of the War, for which she applauded him. She knew that he faced worse discrimination and racism every day than she did during Voldemort's reign. What made it worse is that once he had realised he had chosen the wrong side it was too late for him to leave. Hermione's heart panged again. And for some unexplained and completely unrelated reason she found herself pulling back on the long Grecian style baby pink dress that she was going to wear to the Yule Ball before she had received her annual parcel. It flattered her nicely and wasn't too formal, except for the length. She shimmied into a pair of short heels and pulled her hair into a low side ponytail.

She nodded at herself in the mirror before warding her flat and apparating from her balcony.

Hermione appeared in the same alleyway that she had visited when she, Harry, and Ron broke into the Ministry in her would-be seventh year of school. She smiled softly at the memory. Her footsteps were muffled by the snow in the alleyway and she bunched her Muggle dress coat tightly around her; it was really not fit for weather this cold. As she rounded the corner to the Ministry she happened upon Draco who was leaning against the red telephone box framed in the lamplight. He pushed off of it expectantly, a small smile rising to his lips before he dropped it back to his neutral mask.

"You're late, Granger," he said in way of greeting, a teasing tone in his voice.

Hermione quickly eyed his Muggle coat and dress pants curiously; apparently he owned flattering Muggle clothing. "Colour me surprised…" she mumbled under her breath. She noted that his hair was styled neatly on top of his head, but less formally than the night before and that his cheeks were a little rosy from waiting outside in December in Muggle London. Apparently he didn't own a hat or anything to keep his head warm.

"I'm right on time, Malfoy," she countered.

"I do believe I said seven."

"It's seven now."

"The reservation is at seven and we still have to walk there."

"Well how was I supposed to know that when you said to meet you at seven?" she huffed.

"Because I figured you, being you, would show up twenty minutes early with forty pounds worth of books and more questions than a bloke can answer."

Hermione laughed softly. "I am later than I would normally be," she conceded, "but that is because I didn't want to be waiting outside in the cold with all of my books and questions for twenty minutes until you strolled up. Had I been made aware that the reservation was for seven, why _then_ I would have been here 'on time'."

Draco smirked at her bantering. "I'll make sure you know for next time then," he granted.

"As you should," she agreed. She then realised that she had effectively agreed to go on another date with the blond headed git.

"Shall we?" Draco offered, his arms extended to hers.

_Smooth git_.

Hermione linked her arm with his and they walked in silence to the restaurant. It was only two blocks away, but on the way there it started to snow softly. Hermione smiled up at the snow thinking how romantic it made their evening. Her footfalls halted for a fraction of a second. Anything that she and Draco were doing should be in no way 'romantic'. They were just friends. Or at least, they were trying to be friends. Right?

Draco held the door open for her once they arrived at a small Italian restaurant. The whole place sat maximum fifty people, and they were promptly led to a booth in the back corner before Draco had even said his last name. The tall server took Hermione and Draco's coats without asking and disappeared promising to return with refreshments.

Hermione slowly sank into the booth, not noticing Draco's heated gaze roaming over her body. She sunk into the cushioned seat with a heavenly sigh. It was softer than her bed at home, it was softer than her baby blanket, and it was sooooo comfortable.

"I'm stealing this cushion," she vowed quietly.

Apparently not quietly enough because her date, whom she had forgotten was sitting across from her, laughed. Hermione's eyes snapped up to his mirth-filled ones.

"I'd like to see that. Hermione Granger stealing from a small family-run Muggle restaurant. Just seeing how you would get it out of here without magic would be worth it for me." He laughed again.

Hermione blushed lightly, but joined in laughing with him; it was a funny image. But if it came down to it, she would probably steal it. There was no way that this place was non-magical; the seat was far too heavenly. Hermione returned her gaze to the seat; the cushion was a deep red with black velvet ivy patterns sewn into it. It wouldn't match her living room décor at all.

"Have I mentioned that you look lovely tonight, Hermione?" Draco asked, snapping her out of her admiration for inanimate objects.

Hermione blushed fiercely then, and she knew that her skin was doing a poor job of hiding it. "Thanks," she said meekly.

"This is when you compliment me," Draco supplied for her, a light twinkling in his eyes.

Hermione quickly realised how intimate this date was. Unlike the Ball, her gaze couldn't wander as easily to other attendees and use them as a distraction, especially with the two of them sequestered away in the back corner of the place.

"You look dashing, Malfoy," she said somewhat sarcastically, somewhat truthfully. Because if there was one thing that she could actually admit to herself, it was that after all these years she still found Draco Malfoy attractive. Not that she had ever really admitted that to herself back in school…

He smiled at her as the server re-appeared with a very expensive looking bottle of wine. The man poured it silently into their glasses. He slid two black menus onto their table and excused himself, a little pompously if Hermione was being honest, but theatrics often came with more expensive restaurants. She brought the glass to her lips, at a loss of what to say to her ex-enemy turned somewhat lover turned somewhat friend whom she found distractingly attractive who was currently sitting across from her.

His gaze followed the path of the wine to her lips and Hermione blushed when she realised that he was staring.

"So, do tell," Draco started in that silky voice of his, "how do you like working at the stuffy Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione swallowed her wine and smiled; she really did love her job. "I love it," she gushed. "Working with the Muggle Minister has been a blast. She really is quite the woman [yes I made her a woman, and no this is not historically accurate, get over it]. When I first appeared in her office she tried to throw a stapler at me!" Hermione laughed. She quickly realised Draco's blank expression and smiled again, loving these moments where she could teach others about Muggle living. "A stapler is used to keep a bunch of papers together. It pushes small pieces of metal through paper so that they are grouped together," she explained. "Oh, and they're often made of metal, so quite dangerous to be throwing about at intruders in one's office."

Draco smiled then. "Right. I'd forgotten the name for those things…Stapler," he mumbled to himself. "How did you explain us to her without making her go mental?"

"She's a strong woman. Also the fact that her uncle is a wizard helped things a little bit."

"But what is it exactly that you do?" Draco probed, leaning forward slightly, so he could listen to her more intently.

"Well, I am head of the Muggle Liaison department, as you know," Draco nodded, "So I liaise with Muggles," she finished cheekily.

Draco rolled his eyes and said sarcastically, "That certainly clears things up!"

Hermione laughed. "I run the department, communicate with the Muggle Minister, monitor Muggle relations, Muggle news and inventions and how they will affect us. I, of course, do the inverse for the wizarding community to make sure that what we're doing won't disturb the Muggles, and—"

"Sorry to interrupt," cut in their server, not appearing very sorry. However, there was a woman to the side of him wearing a chef's hat and apron combo. "The chef would like an audience with you." The server concluded and walked away with his nose in the air. Hermione had to stifle her giggles.

"Draco," the chef smiled happily. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet into a hug, which, to Hermione's complete and utter surprise, the blond returned.

Hermione examined the woman hugging her date. She had red hair pulled back in a simple pony tail, she was fair skinned with freckles, and rather short. In fact she reminded Hermione of Ginny Weasley immensely.

Doppelganger Ginny released Draco and held out a hand to Hermione, a large smile on her face. "I'm Isabel," she said happily. "You must be Hermione!" Isabel nudged Draco who shook his head 'no' subtly. Isabel didn't take the hint and kept talking. "Draco wasn't lying, you are beautiful!" Hermione blushed fiercely. "I won't take up much of your time together seeing as Mr. Malfoy here had to trick you in order to get you out on one lousy date with him," Isabel winked and Draco scowled, taking his seat again. "I would recommend the pesto tonight, it is especially good," she continued, all business. "And don't worry about the bill, it's on me."

Draco and Hermione both started to protest at the same time.

"I insist!" Isabel cut them off. "Draco saved my life. It's the least that I can do." Isabel patted him on the shoulder before trilling, "Have a good night!" and practically prancing away.

"She was certainly…chipper," Hermione said into the awkward silence.

Draco just continued to scowl in Isabel's direction, even though she had disappeared behind a door that clearly headed to the kitchens.

Hermione was dying to ask how Draco had saved Isabel's life. Assuming Isabel was a Muggle, since she owned a Muggle restaurant and appeared to be well-versed in Muggle fashion (most wizards who tried to pass themselves off as Muggle did a disastrous job of it, often several decades behind the fashion trends or wearing skirts as scarves, etc.).

"How do you—" Hermione started to ask, when Draco cut her off smoothly.

"You were describing what you do in the wizarding community."

"Oh—erm—right." Her questions would have to wait until later it would seem. "Oh yes! I was going to tell you about our current big project in the department!" Hermione's eyes lit up as she continued speaking. "We're going to try to introduce telephones into the wizarding community. Owls are just such a hassle and when you need to contact someone in a hurry...and floo calls are quite intrusive in someone's home."

"Ah, yes I quite enjoy those tevelones."

"Tel-e-ph-one," Hermione articulated clearly. "You know that they are?" Hermione smacked her forehead. "Of course you know what they are. I keep forgetting about your year in Muggle London… Did you know that Muggles have this invention called a mobile phone and you can carry it around with you so that anyone who has your number can call you when you're out and about. Think of the possibilities in the Auror department!"

Draco smiled at her excitement.

"And of course, our main project," Hermione smacked herself in the forehead again (and realised that she was probably leaving red marks there), "I can't believe I forgot that one. But you know about it. Unfortunately the name is quite unimaginative, it was one that someone threw out during the planning sessions just to have a name to use, but it's stuck. We're calling it Know Your Prejudice, or KYP for short," she said in a way that indicated how much she hated the abbreviation KYP.

Draco chuckled lightly.

"I'd like to see you come up with a better name," she huffed.

"No, I quite like it," he said, a small smile still gracing his perfect face.

"I'm sure…regardless of your opinion, I am quite excited for that. I will be heading the mandatory course at Hogwarts once a week."

"Who stuck you with all the brats?"

"I chose it."

Draco looked at her like she had gone mad.

"Youth are the most impressionable; we're hoping to get the older generations to recognise their prejudice, but actually changing them… even I know how hard that is." Draco tensed slightly, and Hermione quickly realised her faut pas. "Not that it's impossible," she amended quickly. "But with students, we might actually be able to stop these beliefs before they are even made. And if we get students questioning the way things are, then we'll be getting their parents too as well."

Draco agreed with a nod. Their server walked up at that point again and cleared his throat.

"Have you decided on an entrée?" he asked in his snobbish voice.

Hermione looked at her untouched menu. "Er—"

"Tell the chef to surprise us," Draco cut in. "If that's alright with you, Granger?" he asked.

Hermione was momentarily annoyed that he had ordered for her, but his question showed that perhaps he was trying to make her feel less embarrassed or put on the spot. And she was also terrible at deciding on what food to eat at a new restaurant, it all seemed so enticing! "That's perfectly fine with me, Isabel has great taste, I'm sure."

"Indeed she does," the server responded before collecting their menus and walking away.

Hermione didn't succeed at repressing her giggles this time.

"He is a little bit of a pompous ass, isn't he?" Draco asked once the man was out of earshot.

"Remind you of anyone?" Hermione asked with what might have been a flirty smile.

"Oh, I am quite aware of how I behaved as a child," Draco admitted. "I just hope that I am not so blatantly pretentious anymore."

"You're not as pretentious as him, no. But only just barely."

"In my books, that's a success."

"What about you, Malfoy? How's the potion shop?"

Draco's open expression closed off slightly. He took a sip of his wine and thought before responding neutrally. "It's doing well."

Hermione waited for him to say more, but he remained silent, staring at the seat behind her. "That's all you have to say about it? I just went on and on about my job, you have to return the favour."

"It's doing _quite_ well," he added, a smirk on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I heard you opened a shop in Hogsmeade and in France. I would say that you're doing more than 'quite' well. And if the tabloids are right about anything, you're richer than ever."

"Been reading up on me, have you Granger?" He asked, looking rather amused.

Hermione's face slowly began heating up under his gaze. She was babbling her way through a denial of such an accusation (which of course was 1010% accurate because she had read up on him before coming on this date) when their entrée arrived.

After a few moments of arranging themselves to eat a luscious salad, Draco spoke again: "If we're believing the tabloids, then you've been promoted, which you failed to mention."

Hermione looked away awkwardly. "It's not public knowledge yet. Or, it's not supposed to be public knowledge yet. And it's not confirmed…and it's not really a promotion…wait what are the tabloids saying?"

Draco smirked. "Isn't it just lovely being in the limelight?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and stuffed her mouth full of lettuce.

"My apothecaries are doing as well as the tabloids say," Draco said finally, breaking the silence. "We've recently discovered a new pain potion that has less side effects and works faster than ever."

Hermione looked up at him and noticed the twinkle of pride in his eyes.

"We're also in the midst of developing a potion that helps with memory restoration. St Mungo's has been having issues with victims of the War. A lot of the people who have memory loss not related to an _obliviate_ seem incapable of getting rid of their amnesia. So there's… that…" he trailed off lamely.

Hermione smiled at him warmly. "That's fantastic!" she said cheerfully. "I mean, what you're doing is fantastic, not those poor people…" she was blushing again.

Draco's lips twitched in amusement.

The rest of the dinner went well, mostly filled with Hermione talking on length about the various bills that she had passed within the Ministry or even her vacation to America (what an experience _that_ had been). It was oddly easy speaking to Draco freely about her life. By the end of meal she said happily:

"I'm glad you approached me at the Ball."

Draco smiled at her in response.

"Seriously, I think that you're right, we missed the opportunity to be friends. Why did we wait six years to start talking again?" she wondered more to herself than anything.

Draco didn't respond and was staring off into space sullenly. Hermione was reminded of Ron's expression at the end of the night the night before. She wondered why at the turn of a hat he was upset.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Yes?" Draco asked curiously.

"Was Pansy only pretending to be drunk the other night? I swear I saw her wink at you. And why on earth would she want to go home with Ron?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. Okay, maybe she had one too many drinks of that fancy wine, because she wasn't usually so blatantly rude toward her friends. But honestly, Pansy Parkinson and Ronald Weasley. As if.

Draco looked amused. "Why would Pansy do such a thing?" he questioned.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, quite aware that he was being a smarmy git. "It's a yes or no question, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest, Pansy is her own woman."

Hermione huffed.

"Oh don't get your knickers in a bunch, Granger, I'm sure you heard that they had a great night."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're joking."

Draco's bemused expression dropped suddenly and he looked slightly guilty. "You don't…they didn't…tell you?" he asked awkwardly.

Hermione shook her head slowly.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly and took the last swig of his wine. "Well they're both consenting adults, so I don't see the issue."

"Ron and Pansy!" Hermione shouted in disbelief. "You're just trying to rile me up, right? Tell me you're just trying to, for old time's sake." Draco's lack of response was answer enough.

"Don't tell me that you're jealous, Granger."

Hermione snorted loudly, then blushed at her outburst. She cleared her throat. "No, I'm not jealous, Ron and I are friends and I fear what Pansy Parkinson may do to him."

"I think you should be more afraid of what she'll do _with_ him," Draco commented, holding back his laughter.

"You have to admit that they're an odd pairing."

Draco looked at her curiously, but did not agree with her. "While Pansy's not the most attractive witch, she does have certain assets that most males tend to like." Hermione couldn't help but notice that his gaze wandered to her chest. "And she knows what she wants."

Hermione blushed furiously, and looked away from the heated look the blond was sending her, even if she felt her stomach flip and really wanted to do nothing more than climb across the table and shove her hands into his hair so that she could bring him down into a searing kiss and—

"Are you, alright, Hermione?" Draco asked effectively cutting off her little daydream. "You seem a bit flushed. Oh, dear, please don't tell me that you're drunk."

Hermione smiled at that. "Hardly." Although, in retrospect, she was a little tipsy.

"Then why are you so red?" he asked, his eyes perusing her body again.

"I, uhm…is that the time?" she asked, looking at the expensive watch adorning the wizard's wrist across from her.

"I really should get going! I have work tomorrow."

Draco nodded slowly watching Hermione down the rest of her wine quickly and look around for their server. He might have been overly pompous, but he was good at sensing when he was needed, he even had their coats ready. Hermione took hers from him almost hastily. Draco followed suit, eyeing her curiously.

"Let me walk you to the apparition point," he offered.

Hermione nodded mutely, despite the fact that she needed to get away from the blond before she did something incredibly stupid, like jump his bones in a dark alleyway. They linked arms again and made the short walk back to the alley by the Ministry, the snow was still falling, muffling the sounds of the world around them.

Once in the alley Hermione stopped and stared up at him awkwardly. Were this a date between friends, as Draco had insisted that it was, she would probably hug him goodbye, maybe kiss him on the cheek, but nothing more. Were this an actual date then, depending on the night itself (which had been surprisingly fantastic) she would be expecting a good night kiss. They both stared at one another for a long moment, neither really seeming to want to say goodbye.

"I'd love to see your main office sometime," Hermione said softly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded. "Of course."

"And you still owe me those dancing lessons," she reminded him.

Draco nodded again, drifting closer to her. Hermione found that she was pressed up against the alley wall, Draco a few inches from her.

"Thank you for coming out with me tonight, Hermione," he said quietly.

It was Hermione's turn to nod at him silently. Draco raised a hand and brushed one of her curls that had fallen loose of her pony tail out of her face.

"I had a really good time," he said softly, his head lowering to hers until he was speaking directly into her ear.

Hermione shivered at his closeness. Her breath hitched when she felt him nuzzling his face into her neck. His hands had wrapped themselves around her waist and hers were around his neck. Draco took a deep breath in, then planted a soft kiss on her neck. This definitely seemed more like a date date than a friend date. And Hermione wasn't all too bothered by that.

Draco started to slowly kiss his way up her neck, every once in a while pausing to suck on it. Hermione was breathing raggedly, her eyes wide open in the dark snow covered alley.

"Merlin, you're beautiful," Draco said softly. His lips were finally right in front of hers.

Hermione looked up into his eyes for a second before closing her own, and the distance between them. His kiss was so warm, caring, and oddly familiar that Hermione found herself thinking, _this is what I've been missing_. Draco didn't deepen the kiss, in fact, he pulled away after a few seconds and rested his forehead against hers.

Hermione frowned. "What're you doing?" she questioned indignantly.

Draco opened his eyes to look into her annoyed ones. He pulled back even more, looking confused and somewhat hurt. "I'm sorry, I thought—"

Hermione cut him off, "You're stupid," she said before pulling him back in for another kiss, this time shoving her tongue into his mouth fiercely.

He responded in kind, pushing her against the alley wall again. He pushed himself against her so that their bodies were completely flush and groaned into her mouth. Hermione's hand found its way into his perfect hair and proceeded to ruin it. Hermione found herself wishing that they had less clothing on so that she could touch him. This intense desire surprised her, and she forced herself to slow the kiss down until it tapered off. Draco pulled away and grinned at her.

"Really, a great night," he said cockily.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "I should go," she said, her breath visible in the suddenly cold night air.

"Me too, work and all," Draco said vaguely. "I'll see you Wednesday for the press conference?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Seriously, thanks for endorsing this, it means a lot." Hermione pecked him lightly on the lips again. At least that was her intention, but she quickly found herself pressed against the probably grimy wall again, her hand in his hair as their tongues battled for dominance.

"I have work tomorrow," Hermione gasped between kisses.

"Same," Draco said. Although neither seemed to want to slow down on the snog fest that had just started.

"We should…"

"Yeah…" Draco agreed, his mouth descending on hers again.

"Merlin you're good a this…" Hermione sighed.

"You too…"

"I really…" Hermione groaned, forgetting to continue her sentence.

"Okay…"

They stopped abruptly, due to Draco forcefully pulling himself away from her. He had put several steps between them and was looking decidedly tousled. Despite the fact that he pulled away first, he grinned at her.

Hermione was still pressed against the wall, breathing shallowly. "Thank you," she whispered. Clearly she wasn't going to be the one to put a stop to their heavenly kisses.

"I am a gentleman," he smirked.

Hermione just found herself wanting to close the distance between the two of them again. "I should…thank you again. I had a great time," she said softly before turning on the spot and disappearing with a loud crack.

Draco stared at the spot that she previously occupied hungrily. And he had had every intention of _not_ snogging her tonight. He groaned at his mistake and because he had enjoyed it so much. Figures that _she_ was the best snog of his life, then and now. Draco shifted, uncomfortably aware of the tightness in his pants. He rolled his shoulders thinking of Umbridge before apparating to his home, much less turned on that he was moments before.

Hermione for her part collapsed onto her sofa with Crookshanks hopping onto her lap. She kept replaying the evening over in her head, deciding that she needed a cold glass of water. How was it that Draco Malfoy was absent from her life for six years, then all of a sudden all she wanted to do was drag him back to her flat and show him how much she had matured since sixth year. Hermione scrubbed at her face tiredly and carried Crookshanks to her room. She really had to get to sleep considering she had to make an early morning stop at the library before going into work. She was looking forward to seeing him again on Wednesday more than she thought. She also realised that she probably should send him an owl with the details of the press conference so that they knew what they were saying before facing the nosy and demanding barrage of press. In fact, they should probably meet up before the conference just so that they knew what was going to happen. Not because Hermione wanted to see him again before Wednesday, because that would be absolutely ludicrous. And 100% correct.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Firing Squad

Tuesday morning found Hermione Granger waiting in the lobby of Draco's surprisingly small head office building. She had passed by it several times on her way to the library in Diagon Alley, but she always assumed that the unassuming building was magically enhanced on the inside in order to be larger and more extravagant. However, it would appear that she was quite wrong. It was not magically enhanced, so the building was only three floors tall. It was however, quite lovely on the inside; white marble floors, mahogany desks, soft jazz music that emanated from nowhere in particular, and of course lovely pieces of art hanging on the white marble walls. The man at the front desk, Gerald, had told her to wait in one of the few black leather armchairs decorating the sparse lobby. Behind his large desk was a hallway and to the right sat an elevator. Hermione assumed that Draco would be on the top floor.

Draco walked out of the elevator with a pile of papers in his hands. He brought them over to Gerald and placed them on his desk. He did not yet seem to notice Hermione. She took that moment to admire his casual work attire: black slacks, blue button down shirt rolled up at the sleeves (faded dark mark boldly on display), messy hair. She imagined that he was been running his hands through it while he was working on a potion or something of the sort.

"Annalise should be able to take care of this for me by tomorrow, just remind her that it should be two eyes of newt and not only one," Draco was saying.

"I'll send her a memo right now. Also, your twelve o'clock is here," Gerald said in his nasally voice.

Draco turned around then, looking confused. Hermione fleetingly felt hurt that he had forgotten her so quickly—it had only been two days since they were pressed up against one another quite indecently in a dark alleyway!

"Miss Granger," Draco said, a slow smile taking over his face.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted in return and noted that he was absentmindedly rolling down his sleeves, starting with his left one.

"I hadn't realised that it was already noon. Please, follow me to my office," he said cordially.

Hermione was still unused to such a polite Draco. She stood and trailed behind him to the lift. Upon realising that he had not forgotten about her, but had merely lost track of the time made her oddly happy. Once inside the lift Draco waved his wand in front of the console and the elevator began descending.

"Downstairs?" Hermione questioned.

"I do like my peace and quiet," he said in way of explanation.

Hermione was hyper aware of Draco's presence near her shoulder. She felt as if she ought to say something, to acknowledge their time together, but was at a loss for words. Luckily the ride was only a few seconds so that the awkward silence overtaking the elevator was quickly cut short. The doors dinged open and Hermione's jaw dropped.

The entire floor was Draco's office. One half of it was sectioned off by glass walls and clearly was a lab area for his potions. The walls of his lab were covered in shelves full of different potions, cauldrons, ingredients, and materials. The rest of the office walls were covered in shelves and shelves of books. There were a few gaps where portraits and landscapes hung. In the far back corner Hermione spotted a door that almost blended in with the white marble walls. A deep red carpet with gold ivy patterns spanned the entire office—except the lab which was sterile marble—and one step onto it revealed that it was extremely plush (she swore that she sunk a good inch into it). There was a large black wooden desk with a—Hermione actually gasped—a desktop computer sitting on it. A very comfortable an very expensive looking chair could be found behind his desk with two armchairs for visitors facing it. But that wasn't all; he also had a small kitchenette area with a fridge, sink, stove top, table and chairs.

"Oh stop staring, Granger, it's rude," he said, strolling into his office like everyone and their owl saw something like it every day.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were being overly nice in front of Gerald. Have to keep up appearances?" she quipped, but her heart wasn't in it because she was too distracted exploring this little slice of heaven in front of her.

Draco sat himself down at his table, watching Hermione explore his office with a look of awe still firmly in place. "You like it, I take it?" he smirked.

"You have a computer," she said in way of response, reading the spines one of his many bookshelves. "Why do you have a muggle computer?"

Draco shrugged, which of course Hermione did not see, too busy cataloguing his book collection. "It's useful," he said aloud.

She finally turned around then and walked over to the table, pulling out a regal wooden chair and taking a seat. "How do you know how to use a computer?" she accused.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I lived in Muggle London for a year, remember? Wandless."

Hermione quirked her head. "And you taught yourself how to use a computer?"

"More or less."

Hermione stared at him, pondering this.

"Would you like to eat lunch and discuss this press conference tomorrow, or would you like to grill me more about my time amongst the Muggles or my impressive office?"

Hermione did want to ask him more questions about both of these things, instead she allowed herself to get hung up on the first part of his question: "Lunch?"

"It is lunchtime, Granger."

"I wasn't expecting us to…is this a date?" she squeaked.

"Would you like it to be?" Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

Hermione felt herself blushing and wishing that she had done something with her hair instead of tying it into a tangled mess on her head. Not to mention that that morning she had woken up to a large pimple in the centre of her forehead and bad cramps. She found herself trying to turn her head so he wouldn't notice her pimple.

"No," she found herself saying honestly.

"Oh good," Draco said, relieved. "Now I don't have to be nice to you."

"You still have to be nice!"

"Nothing in it for me," he stated matter-of-factly.

"The only reason that you would be nice to me is if you thought that you would get something out of it?" Hermione bristled.

Draco pretended to think for a second before responding, "Yes." Before Hermione could protest more, Draco continued. "So I think I'll summon lunch then."

He waved his wand with a flick of his hand and two bowls of hearty soup appeared in front of them. Hermione was immediately assaulted by the overwhelmingly delicious smell of it. Before she could stop herself she had picked up a spoon and shoveled some of the soup into her mouth. She sighed in delight. Quickly realising her social faut pas, she opened her eyes to see Draco staring at her, and if she wasn't wrong he appeared to be wishing that he was the spoon in her mouth.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "The soup's…delicious…"

"It would seem…"

"So…the press conference," Hermione tried to bring them back on track.

"Indeed." Draco waved his wand again and a stack of papers that were on his desk zoomed over to the table. "I wrote a script."

Hermione laughed, struggling to pull out a wad of papers from her tiny beaded bag. She finally succeeded and slapped them onto the table. "So did I."

Wordlessly they both reached for the other's and began reading. Hermione continued to slurp on soup as she read.

"Must you slurp?" he interrupted.

"Huh?" she pulled her eyes from the page to see Draco looking less than impressed.

"You're slurping your soup," Draco repeated.

"Am I? Sorry."

Hermione went back to reading and slurping her soup, although this time, quite intentionally. A few seconds later she was interrupted again by the man across from her clearing his throat.

"You're doing it again."

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she said sweetly, for some reason enjoying the way his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Hermione went back to reading in silence. A few moments later she brought a particularly large spoonful of the delicious broth to her lips. She was about to slurp it back when…

"Don't," Draco said in his annoyed voice.

"Don't what?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

"You know what."

Hermione chuckled to herself. "Okay, I won't. Sorry." Draco grunted in thanks and returned his gaze to Hermione's neatly written script, just as she slurped the contents of her spoon excessively loudly.

Draco's eyes snapped up to hers. She swore that his eye twitched. "Don't make me come over there," he threatened darkly.

Hermione blushed immediately whether from his tone of voice or the fact that she wanted him to act upon his threat, she was unsure. There was a sudden tension in the air and Hermione regretted teasing him. She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes from his before she could do anything that she might regret—or might make her late back from lunch, because let's be honest, would she really regret launching herself at the attractive blond in front of her?

"This script is rubbish," Draco finally said.

Hermione looked back at him then, defiance in her eyes. "It is not! And yours is terrible. You make me sound like some sort of national treasure."

"You say that I am, and I quote, 'a redeemed man'. Who says that at a press conference, Granger?" she noticed that he was touching his left arm lightly, seemingly unaware, and that he hadn't contradicted the fact that he thought she was a national treasure. "It seems more like you're talking up my apothecaries than your workshops."

Hermione blushed again. He was right about that; she hated speaking about herself or her accomplishments, so she would always talk up others instead of herself. "Why do we even need a script? I talk about my workshops, you say that they're a great idea, then you can advertise your business at the end. The end."

"I don't want to advertise."

"Well why not? It's the perfect opportunity."

"I would rather keep this about your workshop series."

"I really insist that Malfoy Apothecaries benefit from this."

"I must insist otherwise."

Hermione huffed in irritation. "Why?"

"Because."

"Because what!"

Draco stared at her with a hard expression.

"What?!" she repeated.

"Because I'm doing this for you!" He burst out. "You—your…your benefit—that is—er—the benefit of your workshops…" Draco babbled. He was pointedly looking away from her and there was a faint blush on his cheeks.

"For me?" she asked in disbelief.

"For KYP," he clarified, using the nickname that he knew she would hate.

"But you just said—"

"Because me publically stating my support will help you loads with the pureblood crowd," he clarified loudly over her question.

Hermione just stared at him, confused as to why he would want to do something for her benefit.

"So is that the plan then?" he asked impatiently.

"What?"

"You say your bit, I say mine. The end."

"If—uh—sure?"

"Good." Draco stood suddenly and walked over to her side of the table, he offered her his hand and pulled her toward his elevator.

"What're you…?" she trailed off as Draco summoned the lift.

"Sorry to shove you away like this, but I have a pile of work that needs to be done tonight, plus a potion or seven that needs brewing."

The lift doors opened with a happy _ding_. Hermione found herself being pushed inside. Draco waved his wand and the doors started closing, with him outside of them.

"Thanks for the non-date, Granger!" he called before the brass doors cut him off.

Hermione wandered out of the building, extremely perplexed by the blond's behaviour. She was still pondering why Draco Malfoy would want to do something for her benefit. I mean sure, they liked to snog one another (if their date had proved anything), but that was pretty much it. He still got on her nerves like no tomorrow (if the lunch that she just came from proved anything), and he wasn't the nicest of people, reformed or not. They weren't anything to each other, a part from one very good date, they weren't even close to being friends.

Hermione sighed and continued her walk back to the Ministry, her mind already leaving the blond behind and thinking about last minute details that had to be made before they could send out the owls with all the details for KYP to the general wizarding populace. Unlike Hermione, Draco was unable to return to work for much longer than he would have liked, cursing his major slip of the tongue.

-x-

Hermione sat behind her large desk typing silently. Her office, unlike Draco's, was not very spacious; the Muggle Division was still not seen as a very important part of the Ministry, and even if it were there wasn't any free space to go around, and magic could only extend something so much. That being said, it wasn't tiny either. It was slightly larger than your average cubicle, had a one medium sized fake window and a very functional desk. Sure, she only had two small visitor chairs, and no kitchenette or private lab in sight, but her desk and walls were littered with photos of her family, friends, achievements and even some art pieces. Of course, there were also book shelves lining almost every square inch of the office full to teeming with Hermione's massive muggle and wizarding book collection (and this was just what she thought might be useful for work, her apartment was a mess of literature).

A sharp rap of knuckles broke her out of her work trance and she checked the time on her laptop. Her eyes widened almost comically.

"Come in," she called, saving her document and closing down her laptop in a rush. She figured it was Harry or Ron or more likely Gladys reminding her of her MAJOR press conference in ten minutes. Her back was to the door, looking for her beaded purse, when a deep voice commented, "Nice skirt."

Definitely not Gladys.

Hermione whipped around to see Draco. "Hi," she squeaked, smoothing down her black pencil skirt subconsciously; it was a little tighter than what she would normally wear, but she couldn't find her normal dress pants in her rush to get to work early that evening.

Draco's lips twitched slightly, clearly amused by how flustered she was. He looked all kinds of put together, much more business and less casual than their encounter the day before. His hair was styled so perfectly Hermione found that she had the desire to go over to him and mess it up.

"Hello," he greeted in return, his eyes clearly scanning her outfit choice for the day. "I'm surprised you chose to wear heels, Granger, didn't you mention that you're extremely clumsy? There are going to be a large amount of reporters about."

"My shoes, my business."

"If you say so, Granger, but I won't be catching when you fall in front of the press, no need to fuel the fire that's already burning quite strongly in the tabloids these days. Did you see the special report in _Witch Weekly_ that came out this Monday. What a load of rubbish. Although that photo of you falling is hilarious."

"Why do people even care what I do? It's been years since the War. Move on!" she grumbled to herself.

Draco eyed her up and down again and Hermione flushed under his gaze, forcing herself to look away. "Your hair looks nice," he commented neutrally.

She had left it down and tamed it with a few well-aimed spells. She was quite pleased that he liked it, despite the fact that it was still a little wild around her head. "Thanks." Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and pocketed her wand. "Shall we?" she asked, intentionally not complimenting him because she found his ego was already large enough.

Draco stepped out of her open office door and allowed her to exit in front of him. Hermione warded her office with a flick of her wand and began clacking her way down the marble hallway toward the lifts. Draco kept pace with her easily. Hermione noticed several curious glances on their way out of the Muggle Relations Office and into the rest of the department of Magical Law. Hermione resolutely ignored all of these looks, once again caught by the desire to be caught in a compromising position with the tall man beside her just to prove a point. This startled her and she shook her head, summoning the lift.

"I'm surprised that you know where my office is, Malfoy," she commented once they were in the lift.

"Potter brought me here," he said sullenly.

Hermione's eyes snapped over to his and she laughed. "Harry escorted you here? I wish I had seen that!"

"That's what Weasley said once we got to the Auror Office," he muttered.

"Ron saw!" Hermione was practically snorting she was laughing so hard. "I hope he took pictures!" One glance at Draco's face made Hermione believe that the red head had indeed taken photos of Draco's escort.

"Yes, have a nice laugh, Granger," he grumbled again.

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye just as the doors to the Atrium opened. She patted him on the shoulder and exited the lift. "I needed a good laugh, thanks, Malfoy."

She heard him mutter something else, but Hermione was too distracted by the enormous crowd of photographers, journalists, Ministry employees, and general public surrounding a small stage and podium that had been erected beside the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Hermione headed towards this, seeing Kingsley, Harry, Ron, and a few other lower level aurors.

"Hey," she called happily to her friends. "You didn't have to come." She had been craftily avoiding them since Sunday so she didn't have to answer questions about her and Draco, or more specifically their date.

"They needed Aurors," Harry shrugged, glancing over Hermione's head at the blond standing off to the side.

"And we couldn't wait to hear what Malfoy's going to say," Ron said, positively giddy. "Did you hear that Harry brought him in?" Ron whispered quite loudly, a large smile stretching his face.

Hermione smiled at his glee. "I did, you'll have to show me the pictures later. Anyway, thanks for coming! I think we're ready. Kingsley will start, I'll follow and Malfoy will conclude. It shouldn't be five minutes. Then we'll take a few questions," Hermione said, all business.

"Roger," Harry and Ron said at the same time. Their synchronicity was uncanny to Hermione, but it no longer fazed them. They spread out with the other Aurors creating a line between the press and Hermione, Draco, and the Minister for Magic.

"I believe this is my cue," Kingsley said cheerfully. He stepped up to the podium and waited for silence to fall. The blinding flash of cameras was overwhelming.

"Ready for this, Granger?" Draco asked quietly, having snuck up beside her without her noticing.

"Of course. Are you?"

"Of course."

Kingsley began his short speech about equality and hope for the future, etc. Hermione began applauding at what seemed like the logical end of his speech, but he continued on to say: "And I am also pleased to now publically announce that come January 1st Hermione Granger will be occupying a new role at the Ministry. As you are aware she was quickly appointed head of the Muggle Liaison Office. We, here at the Ministry are quite pleased to announce that she will be filling a new spot on the Wizengamot created specifically to ensure that the voice of the underprivileged will be represented in the making, reformation, and upkeep of wizarding law. We think that this position represents the importance of moving toward a less prejudiced world. Please join me in welcoming Miss Hermione Granger to the stage to speak more about her workshop series." Kingsley clapped politely and vacated the stage.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief, she was not even aware that her election to the Wizengamot had officially been approved. He had mentioned it at the Yule Ball as something that was being discussed with no promises and the press had somehow gotten wind of it and reported incorrectly on it (as they are want to do). She wished that he had told her privately beforehand because now she was very flustered. Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron who were both looking at her in awe. She took a few steadying breaths before climbing onto the short stage. She was immediately assaulted by flashes and questions from all sides. Hermione patiently waited for the crowd to quiet down (and stop asking if she was pregnant with Draco's love child) before launching into her well-prepared speech.

"…You should all be receiving an owl within the next two weeks detailing all of this information as well as workshop dates that work for you." She wished that she had brought a glass of water, she was parched. "I would also like to greatly thank the Department of Magical Law for having so many volunteers sign up to help with this project and so generously letting us use their conference rooms for planning purposes. Now if you would please join me in welcoming Draco Malfoy, founder and current president of Malfoy Apothecaries." Hermione emphasized the last bit very clearly and she glanced at Malfoy to see the flicker of annoyance flit across his face. She smiled brightly and continued, "Mr. Malfoy would not like me to advertise his business whatsoever because he would like this press conference to be about creating a more accepting world, and not self-promotion, but I must insist that we all acknowledge the great work that Malfoy Apothecaries is doing through their partnership with St. Mungo's hospital, and the many orphanages across Europe." Draco was definitely scowling now, however, a smattering of applause greeted Hermione's words. "Without further ado, Draco Malfoy," she concluded, nearly falling off the stage while trying to exit the limelight in her heels.

"We'll be speaking about this later, Granger," he growled, but still helped her safely leave the stage.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his scowl. His face immediately transformed into an almost blinding smile for the cameras and Hermione's heart stuttered for a moment; he was really good at acting, she realised as he climbed onto the stage smoothly and in turn waited for silence to fall.

"Thank you for coming out today," he started. "The reason that I am here today is to underline the importance of this workshop series that Miss Granger and the Ministry have put together. One of my close friends helped developed these workshops and I can assure you that a great amount of thought and an enormous amount of hard work has been put into it over the past eight months. As you are all aware, I am sure, I am a pureblood, I believed in blood purity for most of my life. It was only through Hermione Granger that I began to question my own prejudice and beliefs. Were it not for her, I would probably have never questioned the idiotic beliefs that my father and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named preached. This process took a very long time, years actually and started back when I was in Hogwarts. We are all aware of Miss Granger's intellect, I'm sure. Look at her," he gestured and Hermione's face immediately began heating up as the cameras followed Draco's hand. "Who's ever been the head of a department at her age, let alone member of the Wizengamot. Needless to say, she made me question every belief I ever had because how could someone so successful be Muggleborn? It went against everything that I believed. The point of this story being that until we are challenged by those around us, we will never see anything wrong with the little world that we have constructed. I implore every single witch and wizard, regardless of blood status, to take the most out of these workshops. Allow your world to be disrupted. As the Minister and Miss Granger have already stated, the wizarding world is moving forward; if you don't you'll be left behind."

A shocked silence met the end of Draco's speech. Hermione stared up at him in disbelief. Many of the Aurors were no longer paying attention to the crowd in front of them and were instead eyeing the blond. The Minister gently steered Hermione back onto the stage. She allowed herself to be pushed almost mechanically.

"We will take questions about the workshops now, and the workshops only," Kingsley said sternly into the silence of the large Atrium.

Rita Skeeter, the old coot, was the first to recover and she quickly threw out, "That was a lovely speech Mister Malfoy. When did you first know that you were in love with Miss Granger?" she asked boldly, her acid green quill flying across her notepad. The crowd immediately started buzzing and similar questions began to be thrown out by other lesser reporters.

Hermione's jaw dropped. Luckily, Kingsley had fast reaction time because the blond looked more like he was going to hex Rita Skeeter.

"As I said," Kingsley's deep voice boomed, "we are only accepting questions about the workshop series. Ah yes, Xenophilius Lovegood."

"Thank you Minister. I was wondering, Miss Granger, are you still looking for volunteers for the program?"

"An excellent question!" Kingsley smiled. "Hermione?"

"Yes, we are! We are always looking for more volunteers. At this point we have enough workshop leaders and assistants, but we need lots of administrative help," she responded. "Anyone who is interested in helping need only owl the Department of Law here at the Ministry."

"Excellent, excellent," Xenophilius smiled and jotted down a quick note.

"What will happen if you miss a session?" Padma Patil questioned.

"Thanks for asking, Padma. You will be immediately fined 100 galleons unless you can prove sickness or a death in the family. You will then have to make up the missed session," Hermione replied.

"And Malfoy," Padma continued, "_Witch Weekly_'s readers want to know what workshops you'll be attending."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "If the reasoning behind that is that your readers are hoping to sign up for the same session as myself, I am afraid I will not be revealing that information. The reason for these workshops is to become aware of and eliminate prejudice, not meet up with eligible bachelors," he said sarcastically.

Hermione snorted at his response, then immediately blushed, realising that many reporters had noticed her reaction.

"I also heard that you were working on an initiative to implement telephones and computers into the Ministry and the Wizarding community at large, is that true?" another reporter asked.

Hermione nodded, once again confused at how the press found out about stuff like this. "I am. KYP will of course be my central focus for the next seven months, but I think that it's high time that wizards be able to contact one another at the click of a button, we are in the 21st century after all."

"Indeed," the reporter commented, jotting down notes. "And Mr. Malfoy, what work is it that you do with orphanages?"

Hermione heard Draco growl quietly, but he smiled widely as he explained: "We donate post-traumatic stress potions and other household potions that not every orphanage can afford."

"Lovely," the reporter replied, furiously scribbling notes.

"If there are no more questions, I believe we will conclude this press conference."

"You don't think that appointing a special position just for Miss Granger shows favoritism to our little golden heroine?" Rita Skeeter questioned loudly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to respond. To her surprise it was not Kingsley who cut her off, but Draco.

"Miss Skeeter, I can attest to the fact that we all believe that Miss Granger is probably the hardest worker at the entire Ministry and very overqualified to fulfill a position on the Wizengamot despite her youth. And that such a position has been sorely lacking from a Ministry who spouts equality but does not deliver it," he said icily.

"Of course you would believe so, was it not Miss Granger's testimony at your Wizengamot trial that saved you from a neighbouring cell to daddy dearest in Azkaban?" Skeeter threw back harshly.

Hermione's jaw dropped and her fists clenched tightly. Her hatred for that woman would never simmer. Kingsley cut off Hermione's scathing remark.

"Your comments are very much out of line Miss Skeeter, and highly unprofessional. Please stop embarrassing yourself and your profession. This press conference is over," he declared, sweeping Hermione and Draco off the stage with him and back to the lifts.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see the Aurors holding back the crowd from advancing and posing even more out of line questions. They climbed into the lift silently and it made its way to the second level.

Kingsley broke the silence first: "All things said and done, not a terrible press conference."

Hermione wasn't sure whether he was joking or not. "It was certainly interesting."

Draco grunted from his far side of the elevator. He was leaning against the wall staring at the floor. Hermione noted that his fists were still clenched.

"A very good speech on your part, Mr. Malfoy," Kingsley boomed. "And Hermione, sorry for the lack of warning about the Wizengamot, I meant to catch you before you left for lunch but I forgot and was unfortunately held up in meetings until the conference," he explained. "But congratulations!"

Hermione couldn't help but feel proud. She smiled at the tall dark man beside her. "Thank you," she said sincerely. Sometimes Kingsley reminded Hermione of her own father, making her sad just seeing him, but whenever Kingsley smiled with pride down at her, Hermione always felt pride swell in her chest. Thinking of her parents, however, made her smile falter.

The lift doors slid open and Hermione took a step off, looking back at Draco uncertainly. She assumed that he was going to follow her, since he would be unable to leave the Ministry for the next thirty minutes or so until the aurors had succeeded in forcing all of the press to leave. Draco pushed himself off of the wall and walked out of the lift with his hands in his dress pants.

"Have a good day Mister Minister," he said politely.

"I'll see you later, Kingsley," Hermione called.

She continued through the maze of auror desks and into the Muggle Division. Hermione approached Gladys' desk and asked the elderly witch if any post had come in while she was out.

"None at all, dear," Gladys replied cheerfully, eyeing Draco with interest. "Welcome back Mister Malfoy."

"Malfoy and I will be in my office hiding from the press. If somehow one of them sneaks through please tell them that we've left the property via the Minister's personal floo."

"Of course, dear," Gladys said conspiratorially. She raised her eyebrows at Hermione knowingly.

"Oh no! There's nothing happening here," Hermione corrected quickly.

"Whatever you say, dear," Gladys replied, clearly not convinced.

Hermione rolled her eyes and trudged into her office. She heard Draco close the door behind him as she sat down.

"I see why you love my office," he commented, wandering around her own much, much smaller and much, much less extravagant one.

"Not all of us have the luxury of owning a company," she uttered a little bitterly; his office was really heaven.

"You sound a little jealous," Draco said, sitting across from her.

"Anyone in their right mind would be jealous of your office."

"I'm jealous of yours," he said softly.

Hermione snorted. "This tiny room?"

Draco shrugged and didn't elaborate.

"So that went…interestingly," Hermione finally said.

"Indeed."

Hermione hated when Draco was like this: he would just say one word responses. "Your speech was a surprise," she prodded.

"As was yours," his eyes narrowed and he remembered that he was mad at her. "You were not supposed to mention my business at all, Granger."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," she said avoiding his gaze.

"You little…witch."

"An accurate description of myself, yes," she threw back. "You should be happy! Everyone and their great aunt are going to be flocking to your shops after today. Especially after that speech you made."

Draco scowled. "That's not the point," he muttered.

"Oh right, you're not doing it for them, you're doing it for me—"

"I didn't say that!" he countered.

"I think those were actually your exact words, Malfoy."

"Prove it."

"Glad you've matured since school," she said with an eye roll.

Hermione swore that she heard him growl in frustration before standing up and pacing. "Do you think the press are gone yet?" he asked agitatedly.

"Probably not, it's been about five minutes, Malfoy." Hermione eyed his pacing, unsure why he was so worked up, so she asked: "Why are you so worked up right now?"

"I am not 'worked up', Granger," he countered.

"Your tone and pacing suggests otherwise."

"Just… Ignore me, do your work or something."

"It's a bit hard with you pacing back and forth muttering," she threw back, more amused and perplexed at his anger than annoyed. She had made her way to the front of her desk and leaned on it.

"For fuck's sake, Granger, leave me alone!" he burst out.

"What's your problem?!" she shouted back, thankful that her room was permanently magically sound-proofed.

He stopped pacing abruptly and turned to her, shouting, "You!"

Hermione was taken aback by this. Before she had time to fully process his words he was on her, pushing his body against hers, his lips pressing against her own urgently. Draco lifted her onto the desk and spread her legs slightly so that he could stand between them. Hermione's hands were around his neck pulling him closer and closer to him, her legs wrapped around his hips. It was odd how quickly she accepted him in her arms and returned his kiss. How much she craved it whenever she was in his presence. Hermione was now cursing her tight pencil skirt which was currently limiting the range of her hips. Draco's hand tangled into her hair pulling her face back to his when she moved away for air.

"I like the skirt," he breathed.

"What?" she asked, her head quite hazy.

Draco kissed her again in way of response. Hermione's body began heating up deliciously at the rock of his hips when a resounding knock sounded at her office door. The couple froze, Draco's hand cupping her breast over her shirt, the other in her hair. Her legs tight around his waist, skirt shoved up high and arms pulling him as close to her as possible.

The person knocked at the door again.

"One moment!" Hermione called, after momentarily removing her silencing charm, only to re-instate it immediately. She promptly untangled herself from Draco.

Hermione noted with annoyance that Draco's hand was still in her hair. "Malfoy, do you mind?" she asked harshly, righting her skirt and shirt.

"My bloody hand is stuck, Granger," he retorted.

"You're joking," she said.

"Why would I joke?" he threw back. "What on earth is funny about this? Maybe if you brushed this tangled mess on top of your head," he muttered.

"Excuse me? You're the one that complemented that tangled mass earlier!"

"I was being nice."

"Don't lie, you enjoy my frizzy hair, why else would you tease me about it only to shove your hand in it during a moment of passion?"

"A 'moment of passion'?" he asked with a laugh. "Really, Granger, you need to stop reading romance novels."

"Oh can it. Just hide behind the door and we'll deal with this," she gestured to her tangled mane, "after."

Hermione opened her door a crack. Her head was only just peaking through and at an awkward angle so as not to reveal the pale git's hand in her hear. Gladys' smug wrinkled face smiled up at her.

"Sorry to interrupt, dear," Gladys did actually look very sorry.

"You weren't interrupting, Gladys, Malfoy and I were just arguing about the finer points of his speech."

"Whatever you say, dear," Gladys said eyeing Hermione's hair. "Your hair looks different," the elderly witch commented, causing Hermione to flush. "You look a little tousled."

"Nonsense." Hermione waved her off, turning her head at an even more awkward angle in order to hide Malfoy.

Draco chose that exact moment to try and wriggle his hand out of her hair, causing Hermione to squeal in pain. He must have been wearing a ring or something because it was really pulling at her scalp. Gladys narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously.

"What did you need, Gladys?" Hermione prompted after sending a swift kick into Malfoy's shin.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Potter just came by to inform me that the press have been cleared out if Mr. Malfoy would like to leave the building now. Unless of course, you're not done with him yet," Gladys said with an eyebrow raise. Draco rested a hand on her hip and Hermione had to fight every urge not to slap it away.

"Oh, I am so not done with him," she said angrily, her words directed at the blond hidden behind her door, and not her elderly secretary in front of her. Her eyes widened comically as she realised what she had just implied. Hermione wanted to crawl into a hole and hide there for the rest of eternity. "Not that there's…anything to be done…"

"If you say so dear. Don't worry. I can't hear a thing, your silencing charms are very impressive. The old head of this division had terrible silencing charms, and let me tell you he had an affinity for many muggle toys if you catch my meaning, dear."

Hermione, unfortunately, understood Gladys' insinuation and realised that she would fare much better just ending the conversation then and there. "Thank you Gladys." She rudely closed the door in the witch's face.

"I'd say that she approves," Draco teased, "Not that I need approval from your senior secretary."

Hermione shoved his hand off of her waist and tried to round on him to tell him off. By bad luck, she was unable to get enough wind back in order to land a good slap on his face due to his annoying hand tangled in her hair. Draco tried to pull his hand out of her hair again, rather painfully. Hermione shrieked.

"Just use your wand, you're a wizard, aren't you?"

Draco fumbled in his robe pockets until he found his wand and cast a non-verbal spell, releasing his hand from her mane.

"Freedom!" he exclaimed dramatically. She did see a silver ring on one of his slender fingers.

Hermione massaged her head. "Never again," she vowed, eyeing him darkly.

"You and I both know that that will be happening again," he said cockily, leaning on her desk.

"Let's go, I have to escort you from the building."

"What if, as Gladys suggested, I'm not done," he asked darkly.

Hermione licked her lips as Draco rose and walked toward her. He pulled her into him by the hips and suctioned his lips to her throat.

"You should go," Hermione huffed out as his kisses traveled the length of her neck.

"Should I?" he asked. His lips descended on hers and she was lost again for several long heated moments.

"Yes," she groaned between kisses.

With a great amount of will power Draco stopped kissing her, but kept her safely in his arms. "What're you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"I'm…not sure."

"Malfoy Apothecaries is hosting an open party. We're trying out a new line of alcoholic beverages. Consider yourself and your group of lesser qualified friends invited."

Hermione smacked his arm. "They are highly qualified individuals!"

"Whatever you say, Granger."

"Just for that…" Hermione stepped out of his warm embrace and walked toward her door. "You're leaving. Let's go."

"So are you going to come?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

"What're you going to wear?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

Hermione opened her office door and strolled out, ignoring his question. "Let's go, Malfoy, or I'll get Ron to walk you out."

That had him leaving her office fairly quickly.

**A/N: There will be references related to the seven years that I don't write about, and one chapter that's a flashback, but besides that I will leave JK's writing and my allusions to fill in the rest. I just really want it to be six years after the war where they don't interact with one another. Period. And I don't want to rewrite the seventh book because we all know what happened. I haven't really changed anything from that year. Anyway, you'll see soon enough. I'm still hoping to be done writing by the new year, uploading will come a little after because of editing and such. **

**Thanks a mil for all the reviews and follows! I am astounded that so many people are following this story. As always, let me know your thoughts and any glaring errors that are present in this story (especially because I do most of my editing at 4 am, so a lot sneaks by). :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: An early New Year's treat for y'all.**

Chapter 10: Ringing in the New Year

"It's really not that big of a deal," Hermione was saying to Harry and Ron who were sitting across from her in her office eating lunch.

"Not that big of a deal?" Ron choked out past his food.

"It was just one date, it's not like we're dating or anything," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"That's worse, Hermione," Harry argued.

"How is that worse?" she demanded.

"He's just using you! You heard his speech, what a load of rubbish. All he wants is to advance his business." Ron threw out.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and set down her sandwich. "How dare you," she hissed. "Draco wants no such thing. I'm pretty sure you were present at the press conference yesterday. You probably noticed that I distinctly said that he didn't want his business even mentioned. And the press conference was my idea. Not his. Draco is clearly trying to atone for the past which can never happen if we don't let him. We all knew that he had major doubts during the War, but there was a wand to his head and to his family's, what did you expect him to do?" Hermione was quite worked up by this point, jabbing her finger in Ron's direction, who, for his part looked somewhat afraid of the brunette. Sparks were shooting out of the end of Hermione's wand which sat on her desk, but she didn't seem to notice. "And he was very nice to me for the entire Yule Ball, so why wouldn't I say yes to a date? He's an attractive single man!"

"Okay Hermione, calm down—" Ron tried to reason with her.

"Don't tell me to calm down! You have no right to decide who I want to see let alone judge me for it, Ronald Weasley! I know all about you and Pansy."

"Ron and who?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

Ron's eyes widened comically and he shook his head at Hermione, begging her not to say anything. Luckily for Ron, Hermione was a much better friend than he was, and she shut her mouth, instead filling it with her sandwich. Unfortunately for Ron, Harry was near-sighted, not hard of hearing.

"Pansy Parkinson?" he asked incredulously looking between Ron and Hermione, both of whom refused to meet his eyes. "You're kidding me."

Hermione cleared her throat in the awkward silence. "I for one will not judge your choice of romantic partner, Ron," she said a little snootily.

"Not that there's anything wrong with her…I mean she was a bit of a bitc—rude woman in school, but she's probably matured since then…" Harry corrected himself quickly.

Hermione sighed and leaned back in her leather rollie chair. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, both of you. But…Okay. I have to tell you both something that I've never told you. It happened back in school…"

"Did Malfoy do something to you?" Harry asked, concerned. "I mean, aside from being a right git."

Hermione chuckled. "You could say that…" Hermione launched into a simplified explication of the study room and the fact that she had almost convinced Draco to switch sides, but he wouldn't because of his fear for his family. She fibbed a bit on the details saying that she encountered him in Moaning Myrtle's loo whenever she was upset over Ron. She didn't want them to know about the study room for some reason, as if the place was sacred. It was a little awkward discussing her past love for Ron with Ron, but she glossed over it rather quickly.

The boys were silent when she finished her explanation.

"So that's why you kept insisting that Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater and to leave him alone," Ron said slowly.

"And why you were so angry when I cursed him," Harry mused.

"I knew that he was one, but with you two running around making his life even more miserable I was afraid he might snap. You remember what he was like in sixth year, all skin and bone. He barely even insulted us he was so overwhelmed by worry and stress," she said seriously.

"I can't believe you've kept this from us for all of these years."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How would have you reacted to hearing that I befriended Draco Malfoy during the War? Honestly."

Both boys shrugged, knowing that Hermione was right.

"Exactly. Either way, Draco is a not such a prat these days, and I had a lovely date with him," she said with a blush rising to her cheeks. "And he invited me to his New Year's Eve party. In fact he invited all of us; Malfoy Apothecaries is releasing a new line of alcoholic drinks and it's free. I know we were planning of staying at the Burrow, but it would be nice to go out. Pansy will be there," Hermione added on, teasing Ron.

"I don't care if she's there or not," Ron lied, blushing deeply.

"I bet," Harry chuckled.

"I'm going to go, I'd love if the whole gang came too," Hermione said hopefully. She wanted everyone else there not only so Draco's invitation would seem less intimate and like another date, but also because she liked spending time with her friends and so rarely enjoyed a night off. Hermione was unsure why she wanted to avoid more intimate settings with the Malfoy heir. Perhaps it had to do with how easily she threw herself into her arms or the way her heart sped up whenever he entered a room that indicated that things were progressing far too quickly. She was a little afraid of what she might do to him the next time that they were alone together.

Harry sighed. "Alright. I'm not too sure Gin's going to like it though; she was looking forward to wearing pyjamas to New Year's since it was going to be at her parents'."

"She can still wear pyjamas if she wants, no one will say anything because she's pregnant," Hermione countered. Her gaze shifted to Ron who was still red as a fire hydrant. "Ron? You in?"

"Yeah, I 'spose," he conceded. "I just think it's weird that Malfoy's all nice all of the sudden…it feels weird."

Hermione laughed and found herself agreeing. "It is weird when he's nice. But it's definitely a change for the better."

"I can't believe you got us to agree to this," Harry muttered.

"I can't wait! Two nights out in a week, look out world," Hermione laughed.

"Where is this party?" Harry asked.

Hermione frowned. "I forgot to ask. I'll owl Malfoy and ask for the information then send invites to everyone. Now show me those pictures of Malfoy being escorted by Harry!"

Ron brought out the infamous photos and the three of them laughed at the sullen look on the blond and the look of absolute glee on Harry's face. Ron had even managed to take one of them with the three of them in the frame, Draco looked positively livid. Hermione made a copy of one particularly good photo to keep for blackmail.

They eventually moved on to discuss a chest of cursed goods that had been discovered by an unsuspecting muggle out camping in the Forest of Dean.

-x-

Hermione opened her letter from Draco with something akin to excitement. It read:

_Granger, _

_I have an email address, give this old Ministry owl a break and send me an email at dracomalfoy . _

_DM_

Hermione was annoyed that he didn't just answer her question in his letter instead of sending an email address that probably didn't even exist. He probably thought that he was being very funny by sending her the fake address. Hermione found herself at her computer and typing an email despite the fact that a voice in the back of her head was telling her that he was pulling one on her.

_Malfoy,_

_If this address is fake I'm going to send you a howler._

_HG_

To her surprise, she received a response a few minutes later.

_Granger,_

_I wish that I had given you a fake address because I would have so enjoyed a howler from you shouting your inventive insults my way. Alas, I am an honest young man who does not believe in tricking others. The party is happening on the top floor of our main office from 10:30 onward. To warn you, there will be house elves there helping. And no they are not paid, but they do not wish to be either and I'll have you know that they are treated with respect. Are the witless wonders coming?_

_DM_

_P.S. What're you going to wear?_

Hermione finished reading his email with mixed emotions. She typed out a response:

_Malfoy,_

_Who knew that your complete sarcasm could be so well translated into email? Thank you for the information. I assumed that house elves would be present but I have read up on your practices and am very pleased with your treatment of and humanity toward them. _

_Please do not refer to Harry and Ron as the witless wonders, it is hardly polite. To answer your question, they are. I am also going to be inviting Neville, Luna, Dean, George, Seamus…you know the rest of us. I hope that's not an inconvenience. (If it is, too bad because I've already owled them all the information)_

_I'll see you tomorrow night._

_HG_

_P.S. I'm not telling you, you pervert._

Hermione hit send and returned to her work. Not thirty seconds later her computer dinged to let her know that an email had come in. She opened it, and sure enough Draco had responded again.

_Granger,_

_I call them as I see them, and the witless wonders are just that. Yes the rest of you 'good' people can come and overcrowd my party. Let Weasley know that Pansy will be there. ;)_

_P.S. Is it going to be lace or silk?_

Hermione huffed at his response and sent back.

_I'm not telling you what I'm wearing. Stop calling Ron and Harry that or I'm no longer coming. And you're going to see what I'm wearing tomorrow night anyway. Patience is a virtue._

_HG_

Draco responded quickly again.

_No need to get snappy. _

_I want to know what you're wearing _underneath_ your dress, you dolt. Obviously I'm going to see what's on top._

_P.S. What's a virtue? Is that some sort of muggle thing?_

Hermione was blushing by the end of his short reply. She laughed at his P.S., knowing very well that he was just being a smart ass and knew exactly what a virtue was. She sent him the following before shutting off her computer so she could get back to responding to her owl post:

_Malfoy,_

_You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?_

_HG_

She surprised herself with the audacity of her email. Yes, she did want to snog Draco Malfoy whenever placed in a small room together, but they had not ever even seen one another with the slightest amount of clothing removed, as she was suggesting that Draco do the following evening. Her intense sexual desire for him still shook her as it did when she was seventeen. Back then she thought it was just teenage hormones, now it was clear that she had an irrational desire for the pale blond. She then realised, as she had many times before, that she probably ought not to be spending more time with Draco Malfoy. That no good would come from such a one-sided neediness. And as she had many times before, she prepared herself to see him again despite this.

That evening she even found herself sifting through her underwear drawer looking for her fanciest knickers. She held up a lacy pair in one hand and silky one in the other. Hermione dropped them both in horror, remembering his question; _lace or silk?_ She slammed her drawer shut, alarmed by her actions. She was under no circumstances going to be undressing in front of Draco Malfoy the following night!

-x-

Hermione unzipped her dress (a little awkwardly because the zipper was at her back), pushed it off of her shoulders and let it fall to the sides. She shimmied it down her body slowly, looking at the man in front of her before completely stepping out of it. Hermione was standing in front of Draco Malfoy clad in only her lacy black knickers and matching push up bra (the ones that she vowed to herself that he would never see). He sat on the edge of his bed eyeing her hungrily in the moonlight. The hair on her arms stood on end as she felt the magic crackling between them.

"Shit Granger," he swore softly as she advanced on him.

"I guess you didn't have to ask what I was going to wear, seeing as you're looking at it right now," she teased, pushing him onto his back and clambering onto his fully clothed form. "Now why don't we get rid of these cumbersome clothes?" she suggested with a perfectly arched brow. Draco sat up so that their lips could meet in a heated kiss as Hermione fumbled with the buttons of Draco's dress shirt.

_Three and bit hours earlier._

Hermione chugged a glass of water while trying to fasten the buckle on her heels; you should always be hydrated if you're going to be drinking [life lessons]. Her hair had been styled by none other than Ginevra Weasley into a beautiful and massive ballerina bun with a ring of flowers around the base of the bun. Ginny had left a few loose curls hanging down to frame Hermione's face. Hermione had explained to Ginny that she wanted a hair style that was formal enough but didn't make it seem like she was trying too hard; because she didn't want to impress Malfoy or anything, which is why she wasn't wearing her most fancy lace matching undergarments (hint: she was). She had chosen one of the few dresses that she bought when she went on a shopping trip with her mother and father when was she was fifteen. It was a pale peach dress that came to her mid-thigh and was made out of a sheer satiny fabric. Little silk butterflies the same colour as the dress were littered over it. It had a sweetheart neckline with silver lace travelling from the sweetheart to the base of her neck, making it more modest. Hermione loved the dress, forgot even that she had bought it. She paired it with the heels she had worn to the Yule Ball to make her outfit a little more fun (or at least that's what Ginny said).

"Okay, you look great, Hermione," Ginny said interrupting Hermione's perusal of herself in the mirror.

"Thanks, Gin, so do you," she laughed, admiring the red head's hippogriff pyjamas.

"I know these pyjamas just compliment me in every way. I'll have to live vicariously through you. Malfoy is not going to be able to keep his hands off of you," she said with a wink.

Hermione flushed deeply. "That's not what I want…" she argued feebly.

"Mhm, sure. Tell that to the blush on your face or that poorly concealed hickey on your neck."

Hermione slapped a hand to her neck, mortified. "You can see it?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The one thing that I'm better at than even Hermione Granger; covering up hickeys. Let me tell you, back when I was dating Dean Thomas my entire neck was under a constant glamour charm. That boy had a penchant for leaving his mark…" Ginny laughed wistfully while casting a glamour on Hermione's neck.

Hermione's mouth dropped in shock, somewhat scandalised by her younger friend's behaviour.

"Oh whatever, Hermione," she brushed her off easily. "You should be thanking me, otherwise everyone at Malfoy's office would know about you two in three seconds flat. When did the blond git give you that anyway?" she asked casually.

"Wednesday," Hermione admitted.

"You two hooked up after the press conference?" Ginny questioned, seeming surprised. "Hermione that's surprisingly naughty of you. At work!"

"I'd rather not talk about it, Gin."

"Oh c'mon, I'm pregnant. I'm hornier than when I was as a teenager. You _have_ to tell me the details. I love Harry, don't get me wrong. But he's all concerned about hurting the baby so he barely touches me these days," she groaned. "Which is the opposite of what I want at the moment!" she shouted toward the door as if Harry could hear her, which he probably could considering the volume of her voice.

"Too much information, Ginny!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I forget that you're such a prude. Let's go then, it's already 11:00, I think that this is the latest you'll be arriving to anything ever."

"The portkey isn't until 11:05 anyway," Hermione threw back.

They had to travel by portkey because of Ginny's pregnancy, no apparition and no floo allowed, and broomsticks were just a pain in the ass, literally. Hermione followed the brazen red head down the stairs of Harry and Ginny's small house to meet the boys in the living room, Ginny complaining about how sore her ankles were the whole way down. Harry met her at the bottom of the stairs looking concerned.

"We don't have to go, Gin," Harry told her leading her toward one of their armchairs.

Harry and Ron were both wearing casual black pants and somewhat fancy shirts. Harry's hair was as wild as ever, but Ron's was parted to one side so that he actually looked quite handsome. Hermione wondered if he had dolled himself up for Pansy or for someone else.

Ginny shoved him off defiantly. "I'm pregnant, not dying. Plus, I slept all day in preparation for this party. Honestly, what're you going to be like when the baby gets here?" she huffed. "Let's just leave," she insisted testily.

Hermione wondered if there was more than hormonal tension between Harry and Ginny. Her thoughts were whisked away with the spinning of the portkey. They landed quickly and Hermione asked herself why she didn't travel by portkey more often, it was so pleasant in comparison to apparition (because it costs money and has to be pre-authorised through the Ministry, that's why).

They had landed in the lobby of Malfoy Apothecaries main office. Several people were milling about talking to one another drinking out of what reminded Hermione of test tubes and beakers that she had seen on muggle shows about laboratories. Wizards did use almost the same tubes and jars as muggles, but these ones for some reason seemed very muggle to her. The jazz music was still present and playing happily in the lobby. A passing house elf greeted them and offered their entire party drinks. Ginny politely declined, indicating her stomach and the house elf gave her a non-alcoholic one with a snap of its bony fingers.

"Nice place," Ron commented before taking a swig from his test tube. "Bloody hell, that's delicious." He greedily chugged down the rest.

"Don't say that too loud, or Malfoy may hear you complimenting his work," Hermione joked, throwing back her own drink in one gulp. Her tongue tingled the second the shimmering orange liquid hit it. It tasted like sparkling orange juice, and nothing more. "It is good," Hermione said almost breathlessly.

"Even mine is good," Ginny added in.

"Let's go upstairs and see if we can find our friends," Hermione suggested leading them to the lifts.

She noted that another two lifts had been added to the original one, probably to accommodate the swelling numbers of this apparently extremely popular party. Her group waited their turn to squeeze themselves onto lift which brought them to the top floor without having to be told to. Hermione's eyes lit up at the sight before her once at the top. She was unsure how it usually looked, never having been there before, but it was a large open space with a small dance floor, a live band, two bars, and many more clusters of seats. The ceiling had been magicked to reflect the outer sky, much like the one in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Fireflies were buzzing around everywhere just below the ceiling adding light to the party. A group of fireflies had been enchanted to spell out 'Happy New Year's!'. It was beautiful.

Hermione spotted Neville and Luna swaying to the music on the dance floor. She also saw a chicly dressed Pansy Parkinson chatting very intently with an Indian man. Hermione glanced at Ron and saw that he had also noticed.

"I'm going to the bar," Ron said sullenly, walking off with his fists clenched tight and his ears red.

"Apparently his likes Pansy more than we thought," Harry commented.

"I wouldn't mind a drink myself," Hermione said, trailing after Ron.

"We're going to find a place to sit down," Ginny said. "Make sure to get me another one of those non-alcoholic vials. They are heavenly."

Hermione nodded and continued to the bar, dodging her way through the unexpectedly thick crowd. She stumbled into someone's back only to notice, to her chagrin, that it was Draco. Who looked sizzling. He was dressed fairly casually again, wearing a classic white button-down with the top two buttons undone, and black dress pants that clung to him very, very nicely. His hair was that elegant messy that he pulled off so seamlessly.

"Granger," he greeted, steadying her from her collision.

"Malfoy," she said a little breathlessly.

They stared at one another for a long moment until someone interrupted them, Gerald to be more precise.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. and Mr. Aldershot would love a word when you have a moment," the tall man interrupted, his voice as nasally as ever and sounding very overwhelmed.

"Of course, Gerald. Tell them I'm on my way," Draco placated him. Once Gerald had squeezed his way back through the crowd to locate said Mrs. and Mr. Aldershot, Draco said, "the poor sod, getting all worked up about nothing; Pansy planned this party, therefore, nothing can go wrong."

"Doesn't she also plan the Yule Ball?"

"She does."

"Does she have her own event planning—_wait—_does that mean that there's _the_ chocolate cake here?!" Hermione asked excitedly.

Draco sighed in disappointment. "No. Pansy is an evil witch and will only allow that cake to appear at the Yule Ball, and no matter how much snooping I do I will never figure out where she gets it from."

"Rats."

"What? Where?" Draco was suddenly very concerned.

Hermione laughed. "Not real rats. As in…that's unfortunate."

Draco eyed her suspiciously. "You and your odd muggle sayings." He changed the subject completely by saying: "Stop trying to hog me to yourself all night, Granger. I need to attend to my guests."

"I'm not hogging you—!"

"Stop lying, it doesn't look good on you." He grasped her hand briefly and leaned in to say, "I'll see you later," his voice full of promises that Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to.

"Mhm," she nodded, at a loss for words. She turned away from the blond looking for Ron in the crowd by the bar. She was quickly pulled back toward Draco by her elbow. Draco pulled her surprisingly close, although with the press of the crowd around them, it could easily be explained away as an accident.

"I forgot to say, Granger, you look gorgeous tonight."

"Thanks," she croaked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

Draco walked away then, looking far too smug for Hermione's liking. Hermione squeezed her way to the bar, unable to find Ron and ordered herself two random drinks from an oddly curved test tube for her and Harry as well as another non-alcoholic one for Ginny. She had to stand on a barstool to locate the pregnant woman and her loving husband in the growing crowd. They were sitting in a small booth-like area in a secluded corner. Hermione pressed her way back through the crowd, thankful for her earlier choice to wear a short dress; it was starting to get rather warm.

"Hey," she breathed, flopping down beside Ginny who was glaring at Harry, who looked quite sheepish. Hermione doled out her drinks and looked between the couple. "What's up?"

"Harry wants to leave," Ginny ground out.

"I don't want to leave, Gin. I just want to make sure that you're comfortable. You were just complaining about the seats and how hot it's getting," Harry shrugged.

"It is a little hot in here, isn't it?" Hermione added in helpfully. "There's probably a terrace around here somewhere that is more to our liking. Would you like me to go searching for it?" Hermione suggested. She hating witnessing other people fighting, especially couples because she could rarely do anything to help them.

"That would be lovely, Hermione," Ginny said, still glaring at Harry.

"I'll be back!" she promised, throwing back her drink and leaving it on the table.

Hermione made her way back to the bar in order to use her favourite looking stool and tried to locate some doors or archways or something of the sort. Unfortunately her heel slipped on the footstand that she was using and she began to tumble to the ground. Fortunately, Draco caught her. He sat her down on the stool and took the one beside it.

"You fall a lot."

"You catch me a lot."

"Lucky you."

"Lucky me," she agreed. "Is there a balcony or terrace or something? It's getting hot in here, Malfoy."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Well I did step in the room…"

Hermione smacked his arm.

"Who knew that you were one to resort to brutality, Granger."

"Who knew you would use terrible lines like that one. And really, 'brutality'?"

"There is. Let me show you it," he replied, completely ignoring her comment.

Draco grasped her hand and tugged her through the crowd. She was reminded vividly of their studying at Hogwarts, hand in hand. A small smile rose to her lips. She had missed this. She was quite suddenly free of the crowd and climbing a large spiral staircase. At the top sat a large sitting area, one bar, and a pool. It was snowing around them, the snow melting before it reached the ground.

"Is that a pool?" Hermione gasped.

"Did you bring a swim suit, Granger?"

"You didn't tell me to."

"Guess you'll just have to skinny dip then," he said with a smirk.

"In your dreams."

Draco muttered something that Hermione missed because she was too busy realising that there must have been a warming charm because she wasn't freezing despite being out in almost January air, she also noted that it was a much more solid charm than the one at the Yule Ball. She eyed the swimmers and figured that the pool was probably heated.

"We actually have a bunch of spare swim suits that we bought for the occasion," Draco said casually, still holding Hermione's hand. His thumb ghosted across her knuckles. "Sorry we were interrupted earlier," he apologised easily.

"That's fine, it's not as if there was anything to interrupt," Hermione said.

"I don't have chocolate cake, but I do have cheesecake. Want some?" Draco offered. Without waiting for a response he pulled her to the bar and asked the bar tender to give them both slices.

"I was actually looking for this rooftop balcony for Ginny because she's feeling—" Hermione started to say.

Draco shoved a forkful of cheesecake into her open mouth. Hermione groaned the second it hit her tongue. It was almost as good as the chocolate cake. Her eyes popped open to see Draco staring at her with something akin to hunger on his face. Hermione flushed fiercely.

"You look so pretty when you blush," he said softly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Hermione coughed awkwardly. "Thanks." She shoved more cheesecake into her mouth so that she didn't have to speak, or look him in the eye.

"You hair is much more tamed than usual, I'm impressed with your wand skills," he admitted, swallowing a large piece of cake himself.

"I didn't do it."

"Yeesh, Granger. I don't know that. At least take the credit and allow me to be impressed by you."

"I'm not a liar," she countered.

"Live a little," he dared.

"I did my hair myself. Do you like it?" she asked cheekily.

"Granger, I'm so surprised by your talents. You should give up your life's passion and instead open a beauty salon. You'll be the talk of the town," he gushed, causing Hermione to laugh.

"Only if I get to style your hair."

Draco jokingly pushed his hair in her face. "Please," he insisted. Hermione, going along with the joke shoved her hands in it, only to remember that his hair was her weakness. Before she knew what was happening she was massaging his head and destroying his hairstyle. Draco pulled away suddenly.

"Fuck, Granger," he grumbled, staring at her heatedly.

"Sorry for ruining your hair!" she rushed out.

"You're testing my resolve."

"What?" Hermione was confused.

Draco leaned in toward her in order to whisper in her ear, "When you put your hands in my hair like that I want to push you against a wall and have my way with you."

Hermione's stomach got that sensation that you have right before you're about to go down the big drop on a rollercoaster. She didn't know how to respond to such a blatant sexual come on, so instead, like most adults would do in a similar situation, she pulled away from him faster than a snitch and stood at arms-length.

"I was supposed to get Ginny a long time ago," she squeaked before high tailing it out of there.

Had she looked behind her she might have seen Draco's face go from confused, to hurt, to determined, back to his blank mask. She didn't look over her shoulder though because she was afraid she would find a dark corner and take him up on his offer. Hermione ran into Ron at the bottom of the staircase, he looked decidedly dishevelled; his hair was much messier than before, she swore he had lipstick just above his lip, and his dress shirt was crinkled with two buttons undone.

"Ron!" she greeted him, feeling guilty for some reason.

"Hermione!" he greeted back, looking equally as guilty and Hermione felt.

"I'm looking for Ginny and Harry, they were looking for the balcony and I've found it. There's a pool up there."

"Pansy knows how to throw a party," Ron commented offhandedly before turning stop sign red. "I—I know that she planned it—because…she—uhh—Malfoy…"

Hermione laughed. "Calm down, Ron. I think we both know why you look so dishevelled right now, no need to lie. Now want to help me find Harry and Gin, or are you looking for Pansy?"

"Let's find our friends. It's almost midnight, it'd be nice to be together to ring in the New Year," he smiled.

Hermione grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the crowd to Harry and Ginny's last known location. They reached the booth several 'excuse me', 'sorry', 'pardon', and 'watch it's later. Harry and Ginny were definitely still there; Ginny was sitting on Harry's lap sideways, her lips glued to his aggressively, her hand wrapped around his brown neck.

"Gross," Ron groaned, looking away quickly.

Harry pulled away from Ginny after hearing Ron's protest. Hermione noticed then that he was not wearing his glasses. Ginny glared at Ron.

"Oh get used to it! I'm pregnant, so we've obviously had sex, Ron. Please, grow up," she snapped. Ginny shoved Harry's glasses back onto his face.

"Oh, hey Hermione," Harry said comically, now able to see her.

"I found the roof," Hermione said sheepishly. "I thought we could all head up there and have a little more peace and quiet to celebrate."

Ginny sighed and heaved herself to her feet. "Thank you for finding coolness, Hermione, but could it not have waited twenty minutes? I swear Harry was going to go for boob for the first time in weeks!" she exclaimed earning another groan of protest of both Harry and Ron. Ginny ignored them. "Lead the way," she commanded.

Hermione smiled at the woman's antics and began gently pushing her way to the staircase. Until Ginny yelled rudely, "Out of the way! Pregnant lady coming through!"

The crowd surprisingly cut in half, and like Moses parting the seas Hermione led Ginny, Ron, and Harry to the roof, picking up Luna, Neville, and George along the way. Hermione glanced at the clock above the pool to see that there was only five minutes until the New Year. She scanned the rooftop for Draco and was unable to find the man. She cursed under her breath as her friends revelled in the discovery of the pool. Ginny was the most thrilled, transforming her pyjamas into a one piece swim suit and waddling into the swallow end. She sat herself down and exclaimed, "Now this is living!"

Hermione laughed. She chose that moment to sneak back downstairs. Although merely minutes before she had wanted nothing but to be away from Draco because of his bold claim (well actually she was more afraid of the fact that she wanted to take him up on his offer), she now felt as if she needed him by her side while they rang in the new year. Hermione found him fairly quickly near the staircase to the roof, speaking to Pansy Parkinson by a fountain shooting out liquid chocolate.

Hermione (not so) casually interrupted their conversation.

"Is that a fountain of chocolate!?" she demanded.

Pansy frowned at Hermione while Draco looked nervous of her sudden apparition.

"It is," Pansy confirmed stiffly, looking very much like a standoffish pureblood with her fancy sparkling dress and elegant heels.

"We're upstairs," Hermione transitioned smoothly (not). "You should come," she said to the Slytherins in front of her as she stuck a finger into the chocolate and then stuck said chocolately finger into her mouth.

"Who's 'we'?" Pansy questioned while Draco eyed Hermione licking her finger.

"You know, Ron, Harry, Ginny, etc.," Hermione said absentmindedly sticking her finger into the chocolate again.

"You shouldn't put your finger in it, Granger, that's hardly sanitary," Pansy scolded.

Hermione looked up her guilty. She realised that maybe the drinks that she had had since getting there were starting to affect her. She glanced at Draco who was eyeing the chocolate on her finger. Hermione shoved it in her mouth while holding his gaze; the alcohol was definitely getting to her.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'll meet you upstairs then. But you only have two minutes, so I'd hurry." She strutted away.

"Hurry what?"

"Pansy is implying that I am going to ravage your mouth with my own," Draco said darkly, advancing on Hermione. "Which does sound like a lovely idea. I, however, loathe public displays of affection. And will be doing nothing of the sort. Shall we ascend before we miss the countdown?" Draco took her hand again and they climbed the marble stairs to his rooftop.

Her friends were all gathered about the pool joking with one another. Pansy was fixing Ron's crumpled shirt while he watched her sheepishly. She was quietly berating him. Neville and Luna were staring into one another's eyes deeply. Hermione smiled; they were such an odd and perfect couple. Draco tugged her to the bar, grabbing them both drinks before slowly making their way to her group of friends.

"Why do we have to be with your group of friends, Granger?" Draco muttered.

"Pansy's here," she countered.

"She hardly counts."

"Don't be rude."

Draco rolled his eyes. His retort was cut off by those around him shouting the countdown. Hermione joined in enthusiastically, dragging Draco closer to her friends so that they could shout at one another obnoxiously for ten seconds. Hermione surprised them both by tugging Draco to her and planting a chaste kiss on his lips at the stroke of midnight. She pulled back and 'cheers'ed him before he could protest the PDA. Hermione took two long chugs of her drink and placed it on a side table near the pool. She glanced around and noted that no one had noticed her brief slip of resolve because they were too busy kissing one another. In fact, Ginny and Harry, and Ron and Pansy were still going at it long after everyone else. Hermione giggled. She was definitely pushing the status of 'drunk' by this point.

"I think that I'd like to go swimming, or at least sit in the pool. It is such a cool sensation to be outside in the snow but be warm. I can't imagine swimming while it's snowing."

"Granger, I think you should lay off of the drinks for the rest of the night," Draco said slowly.

"Oh, live a little!" Hermione sauntered over to the pile of new bathing suits purchased just for that night and found a modest one piece. She went into the small change room and put it on. When she came back out Draco was staring at her. Hermione thanked Merlin's saggy balls that she had decided to shave that morning. She flushed happily and slipped into the water. Harry and Ginny had separated (Ginny had pulled him into the water fully clothed and Harry had left to dry off). Hermione sidled up to Ginny and wished her a happy New Year.

Ginny was quite flushed. "Hermione! Happy New Year."

"Looks like you finally got the groping that you were hoping for!" Hermione laughed.

"Let's just say that I'm looking forward to tonight," she winked.

Hermione giggled again.

"By the looks of it, so is a certain blond billionaire."

Hermione glanced up at Draco to see him still staring at her even as Pansy spoke to him. Pansy was leaning against Ron nonchalantly as if nothing were odd about them being together. Ron, on the other hand, looked distinctly uncomfortable while at the same time looking like he was enjoying himself immensely. Hermione bit her lip and looked away from Draco's stormy eyes.

"It's New Year's Hermione, have some fun," Ginny encouraged. Then to Hermione's mortification Ginny yelled, "Oi, Malfoy! Get your pale arse over here!"

He frowned but excused himself from Pansy and Ron. "Yes, Ginny?" he asked politely.

"Take off your clothes and come into the water, I'm about to leave and I don't want Hermione to be alone."

"Ginny!" Hermione protested.

Ginny shushed her by splashing water into her face. Hermione spluttered indignantly as the pregnant woman heaved herself to her feet and began exiting the pool.

"Sorry Hermione, but I've finally convinced my husband to rock my pregnant world and I don't want to miss out on this chance. Good night!" Ginny called over her shoulder, waddling toward the staircase with Harry on her arm.

Her pyjamas returned to their regular form and Ginny cast a drying charm. Harry had the decency to look mortified by his wife's very public declaration of what they were about to go do. Not that his mortification would in any way stop his actions later on that evening, for which Ginny would be eternally and loudly grateful.

Dean Thomas appeared out of nowhere, or more likely Hermione was too focused on Draco removing his shirt on his way to the change room to notice Dean's approach.

"Who's up for a game of water Quidditch?" He shouted excitedly, canon-balling into the pool.

Hermione wanted to grumble in opposition, but instead shut her mouth and accepted a drink from a passing house elf. She nearly jumped when she felt someone slide into the water beside her. She looked up to see Draco frowning at her.

"I thought you were done drinking for the night."

"When did you become a party pooper," she countered.

Draco took her drink and downed it easily. She was annoyed that he stole her delectable beverage. Hermione had noticed that his alcoholic potions had very little alcohol taste, which was quite dangerous. She made a note to tell him this when she was sober.

"Did someone say water Quidditch?" he asked cheekily before wading into the deeper end and helping set up. Hermione watched as the teams were divided, five against four. She sighed, knowing that they would call on her to fill the void on the team against Draco.

"What do you say, Granger? Think you can beat me?" Draco teased.

Hermione grumbled before pushing herself into the deep end and taking her position with her team mates. She only recognised Dean on her team.

An hour later and Hermione was quite surprised with how much fun she was having. Her team wasn't doing too poorly either. Draco kept teasing her whenever she messed up, and she kept trying to psych him out whenever he had the ball by shouting vague insults in his direction or splashing him in the face. In the end his team won, which was no surprise since Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Seamus were all on one team. Somehow the game ended in a giant splash war and Draco throwing her into the deep end. By the end Draco dragged Hermione out of the water with the promise of more cheese cake.

Not entirely remembering how she got there, Hermione found herself in a deep discussion with Theodore Nott about their workshop series, debating whether or not people would actually change and by which month it would be. She sat across from Theo, and beside Draco. His hand was resting on her thigh nonchalantly. Hermione hedged her bets that everyone would change in some way, but most would be affected by the fourth one. Theo on the other hand held strong that some people may become more exposed to a better way or thinking but would remain in their backwards ways, and most would not come to the realisation of their wrongs until the sixth workshop.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of one Ernie MacMillan.

"Theo, are you ready to go?" Ernie asked somewhat awkwardly in front of Hermione and Draco. Hermione didn't know Ernie very well but remembered that he had fought admirably during the Final Battle. Draco, on the other hand, was visibly shocked by the other blond's presence. Hermione smacked his arm.

"Close your mouth," she hissed.

"Stop hitting me, Granger," he hissed back.

"Well you're being obnoxious."

"Sorry if I'm surprised that Theo managed to get a bloke to go on a second date with him."

Hermione hit him again.

"Stop that!" he complained.

"Stop being rude!" she countered.

"Yeah, sure," Theo said smiling at the Hufflepuff, having completely missed the exchange between Hermione and Draco because he was too distracted by Ernie's presence. Theo gave Hermione a half hug and nodded at Malfoy. "Happy New Year," Theo said cheerfully before taking Ernie's outstretched hand and strutting off of the emptying balcony. Most people had started trickling out about a half hour before.

"I cannot believe that he got Ernie to go out with him," Draco said.

"Why not? Theo's hot," Hermione said thoughtlessly, sipping on another nameless juice-like drink that was in fact alcoholic, and not juice (or at least she thought that it was, but Draco had swapped out her drink to be non-alcoholic a long time ago; so it was juice).

Draco's head snapped to hers, eyes narrowed slightly.

"And he's so smart," Hermione added on.

"Theo's gay, Granger, I don't think that it's going to work out between you two."

"Wow, is he, Draco? I didn't just notice him walking out of here with a man," she quipped.

Draco rolled his eyes, but was distracted by the fact that she had used his first name.

"Also, he's bisexual. I asked him ages ago when we first started the project," Hermione said offhandedly.

Draco's eyes narrowed again. "No he's not."

"Wishful thinking won't change anything," she laughed. Hermione was hit by the sudden and very real need to pee. "Where's the bathroom in this place?" she asked, realising that she hadn't gone all night.

"There's one on the third floor, but there's probably a line up to next Thursday…You could always…come down to my office. I have one in there," he said slowly, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken (which considering her insane need to pee and inebriated state, she probably was), he seemed a little shy.

"Yes please, your office is my favourite place on earth," she declared far more loudly than she would have were she sober.

Draco didn't hesitate in pulling her to her feet, down the stairs and past the admittedly quite long line up to the loo and toward the lifts. Draco waved his wand and a smaller lift materialised in the wall that had beforehand been empty, the brass doors opened at another flick of his wand and Draco tugged Hermione inside. They stood on opposite sides of the lift, Hermione hopping from one foot to the next, Draco staring at her cute little pee dance.

The doors opened to his office and his lamps sprung to life. Hermione sighed in delight at the promise of a toilet and his perfect office. Draco led her to the far corner where she had spotted a door the last time she was there. He opened it with a more intricate wave of his wand and more lamps sprung to life to reveal a quite large bedroom. In the centre rested a four poster bed with deep green drapes and a black duvet with white ivy patterns. To the left, Hermione thanked Morgana's saggy left tit, sat a large bathroom.

"Thanks!" she called over her shoulder, shutting herself in quickly, not bothering to lock the door and propelling herself to the toilet.

Hermione eyed the bathroom around her and noted that, like the rest of the building, it was made of marble. Unlike the rest of the building, the marble bathroom walls had hints of gold in them. It had a shower stall with transparent glass doors and a Jacuzzi bathtub. The counter lined the side of the bathroom with the toilet and was unnecessarily large. Hermione noted that his toilet flushed very impressively. She washed her hands and realised that she was extremely flushed. She considered dousing her face in water, but she had put on that pesky mascara again, and that shit would run down her face like a poorly timed oil spill (not that they can ever be well-timed).

Hermione sighed, smoothed out her dress and left the bathroom. Draco was sitting on his bed. His head snapped up at her entrance and he stood hastily. Hermione walked over to him.

"Thanks," she said again. She then became aware of how very secluded they were. "Wait, why do you have a bedroom attached to your office?"

Draco shrugged. "I work a lot of late nights."

"Do you live here?"

"And if I did?"

"You own a lot less stuff than I thought that you did," she laughed.

"Most of it's in a vault at Gringotts."

"The truth comes out," she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Draco pulled her waist into his and said, "Yeah, unfortunately I couldn't fit the three pianos, and twenty tea sets in my closet here, so I had to make do with storage until I decide to buy a real house."

"You're such a workaholic."

"Look who's talking."

"I thought you said that you wanted to have your way with me," she said referring to his declaration on the balcony, "What're you waiting for?" Hermione questioned, genuinely surprised that they had stayed in their current position without locking lips.

Draco didn't need to be told twice. His lips met hers in a searing kiss that squashed the butterflies in Hermione's stomach and instead sent heat rushing between her legs. She tangled her fingers in his hair, playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck. Draco groaned, clearly enjoying the attention. His tongue dominated hers and Hermione let it happen. Hermione wanted him to pick her up and throw her onto the bed that was just begging to be used. As if reading her thoughts, Draco lifted her, Hermione's legs wrapping around his waist, and he brought them to the bed. Or more accurately he backed up until he hit the back of them bed and they fell onto it. Draco climbed up her body and reattached their lips. Hermione groaned happily, her waist grinding against his eagerly. She was breathing quite raggedly when she felt one of his hands slide up her dress and make its way toward her specifically picked out knickers. Because this was Draco Malfoy. Who she barely knew. Hermione stilled her hips suddenly and pulled out of the kiss. Draco dropped his head to her neck and kissed her there instead, thinking that she merely needed an air break. A moment later however, as his fingers were just about to reach their destination between her legs, he realised that she was being unresponsive to his decidedly hot touch.

"Hermione?" he asked uncertainly, frozen above her.

"I think I've had too much to drink," she said slowly. "I should go home."

Draco stared at her for a moment and she couldn't read his face. He rolled off of her and stared at the canopy above his bed. "Of course," he said evenly, not looking in her direction.

The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Hermione slowly inched her way off of his expensive duvet and realised that she still had her heels on; they were so damn comfortable. She walked to his door uncertainly. She turned around to see him still staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered into the silence.

After a beat of silence he responded, "Don't be. Happy New Year's, Hermione."

"You too…" Hermione opened his bedroom door and walked into his office. She closed it behind her and leaned against it. She smacked herself on the forehead. She needed to decide whether or not she wanted to get involved with Draco or not. Their snog sessions were lovely, but too unpredictable. She just felt as if they were moving too fast, despite the fact that her body clearly wanted to be near him, wanted him.

"It's decided then," she said aloud to herself.

Hermione turned back around and opened Draco's door. He was sitting on the edge of his bed now, looking like he was about to get up and the lights had been extinguished.

"I just realised you can't get upstairs without me granting you access," he said awkwardly. He made to get up.

"No, sit," she ordered.

Draco sat down, allowing her to see his confusion.

"I've decided I would like to stay," she said to his expensive fluffy red carpet.

"Have you now?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Yes. Although…I don't think I'm ready to have sex with you," she started, her face on fire, "but," she continued, "my body wants yours and I would prefer to stop denying it." She thanked his magic elixirs for her current emboldened state.

"I couldn't agree more," he replied quickly.

"So what do you say we ring in the New Year together?" she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. Draco nodded in response.

That was all the confirmation that she needed. Hermione unzipped her dress (a little awkwardly because the zipper was at her back), pushed it off of her shoulders and let it fall to the sides. She shimmied it down her body slowly, looking at the man in front of her before completely stepping out of it. Hermione was standing in front of Draco Malfoy clad in only her lacy black knickers and matching push up bra (the ones that she vowed to herself that he would never see). He sat on the edge of his bed eyeing her hungrily in the moonlight. The hair on her arms stood on end as she felt the magic crackling between them.

"Shit Granger," he swore softly as she advanced on him.

"I guess you didn't have to ask what I was going to wear, seeing as you're looking at it right now," she teased, pushing him onto his back and clambering onto his fully clothed form. "Now why don't we get rid of these cumbersome clothes?" she suggested with a perfectly arched brow. Draco sat up so that their lips could meet in a heated kiss as Hermione fumbled with the buttons of Draco's dress shirt.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Happy New Year!**

Chapter 11: Advancements

Hermione succeeded in removing Draco's shirt between their heated kisses. She shoved it off of his shoulders and pushed him onto his back so that she could look at his bare chest. From their brief moments of being smushed together over the past week (_had it only been a week?_) she had noticed that he had definitely put on weight since sixth year, which was probably a good thing because he was sickly skinny before. Now as Hermione admired him she could say quite definitely that he cut an impressive figure. He wasn't very muscular, but he was toned all over and his pale skin gleamed in the moonlight streaming through his window.

"I know I'm beautiful, Granger, but really, stop staring. It's hardly becoming," he drawled, pulling her down to him. Unluckily, he pulled too hard and Hermione smashed her head against his, rather painfully.

"Fuck!" they both exclaimed at the same time.

Hermione rolled off of him to clutch at her head. Draco was doing the same.

"Merlin Draco. Way to ruin the mood," she grumbled massaging her head.

"Don't say it as if it's my fault, you were the one that kept staring at me instead of doing anything," he muttered back.

"Excuse me for liking your pale body," she threw back, turning toward him.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "You like my body?" he asked suggestively.

Hermione huffed and instead of answering rolled onto her other side so that her back was to him. "Sod off, Malfoy, I'm trying to nurse a head injury, sometimes they make people say funny things."

She nearly jumped in fright when she felt his fingers ghosting across her bare side. Hermione had forgotten that she was quite scantily clad until Draco's hand dipped onto her stomach and rested right above her pantie line. She felt his body shift to be right behind hers and she felt his breath by his ear.

"I like your body, Granger," he said darkly.

Hermione glanced down at his pale hand contrasting beautifully with her dark skin. Hermione's head was pounding, from her head injury or because Draco was tracing light circles above her underwear line she was unsure (okay she wasn't unsure, she was quite sure it was because of the soft, barely there circles currently driving her up the wall).

Hermione turned her head somewhat awkwardly so that she could connect her lips with Draco's again. He sighed at their contact, kissing her softly. His hand started to slide underneath her lacy panties but stopped short of reaching anywhere near their destination. Draco pulled back from the kiss.

"You sure about this?" he asked breathily.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Hermione complained.

"Sorry for asking!" Draco shot back, clearly annoyed. "I'm just trying to be a gentleman."

"If I wasn't sure, would I have stripped in front of you and initiated the whole thing?" she retorted, simultaneously angry, turned on, and honoured by his concern.

"You've had a lot to drink," he countered.

"So have you. Afraid you won't be able to perform?" she teased.

Draco pulled her closer to him and she felt quite clearly that he was indeed very able to perform. "I just don't want you to regret this, Granger," he clarified.

Hermione huffed and pulled out of Draco's embrace. She sat up and faced him. "What is your problem? You can't keep your hands off of me when I don't invite you, and here I am all but begging and you have more questions than I do." Had she been less turned on by his mere presence she would not have been so upset, but at the moment her brain was far too focused on hoping her would return her advances.

Draco sat up as well and Hermione was momentarily distracted by his naked chest. "Hermione, I just don't want to be taking advantage of your lovely body."

"You're not," she retorted, crossing her arms. She saw Draco's eyes trail down to her breasts and she felt of flash of heat go straight to her core. She was oddly proud that she had distracted him.

"Good. Then where do we draw the line tonight?" he asked quite seriously, seemingly not bothered by her antagonism.

Hermione flushed, realising that he was finally agreeing to touch her again. She crawled onto his body again and trailed kisses from his stomach to his jawline. She loved watching his breath accelerate. She pulled up short of his lips and met his stormy eyes, her body draped over his. Hermione's pulse was already beating out a samba and her face was flushed with desire.

"Underwear stays on." Hermione reached behind her and undid her bra. She threw it off with fake ease, pretending not to be self-conscious under his heated gaze. "At least, bottoms stay on," she amended before attaching her lips to his so that he would stop staring at her.

Hermione nipped at his bottom lip before sliding her tongue into his mouth. He allowed her to dominate the kiss. When she started rocking her hips against his, however, Draco groaned and flipped them over. He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head. Draco pulled back and stared down at her chest greedily. He sent a devilish smirk her way before attaching his lips to one of her hard brown nipples. And Hermione quickly realised that she was much noisier in bed than she thought she was. Probably because most (_except for that one…_) of her partners had never fully satisfied her before, something that Draco seemed very intent on doing.

Her breath caught in her throat as he circled her nipple with his tongue. He had long let go of her wrists and was instead palming her other breast. Hermione's breath hitched and back arched as he began sucking right above her nipple, leaving a dark bruise there. Draco planted many wet kisses over her breasts before switching sides. Hermione's hands rested on his shoulders, occasionally running through his hair or attempting to hold him in place. Her hips were grinding against his body steadily as she got hotter and hotter from his attentions.

Draco planted one more kiss on her breast before pulling away and smiling at her. His absence left her very cold. "You have nice boobs, Granger," he said smugly.

She wanted to smack him, but his fingers had just reached her panties and slid inside. So instead of a reprimand a very loud groan ripped its way from her throat as Draco teased her lightly. He dipped a finger into her folds.

"Someone's happy to see me," Draco murmured gleefully upon the discovery of how slick she was.

Hermione bucked her hips against him and felt the hardness of his length. "I could say the same thing," she countered in what she hoped was a sexy voice but probably came out sounding far too much like she had just run a marathon.

"I already told you, Hermione. I like your body," he replied huskily, attaching his lips to her neck. This comment had heat pooling in her lower abdomen and butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Draco removed his hand from inside her, to his dismay. He reached into his dress pants pocket and pulled out his wand which he used to make said fancy pants disappear. Hermione eyed the bulge in his briefs with a surprising hunger. Draco brought their bodies together again so that he could move his hips against hers sensually. Hermione joined his rhythm, wrapping her legs around his waist in order to better feel him moving against her. Draco anchored his arms beside her head so that he could thrust against her more powerfully. His head dropped down beside her neck and kissed her there randomly every few seconds. Her hands crawled up and down his back, loving the feel of his muscles at work. Draco was suddenly kissing her on the lips roughly. She kissed him back just as aggressively. As Hermione felt the heat growing between her legs she severely questioned her underwear rule, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of her, and not just rubbing his length against her flimsy lacy knickers. Luckily (or unluckily) for her, this thought was quickly dismissed by her approaching orgasm. Draco turned her around so that Hermione was on her hands and knees. He brought their hips back together and rolled against her expertly. Hermione was panting loudly and moaning quietly by this point. Draco anchored a hand on her waist and she felt his hardness pressed against the thin lace separating them from what they both so dearly wanted. Hermione rolled her hips in tandem with Draco's smooth and deep thrusts. Draco rolled his hips against hers more and more sporadically. She could tell that he was getting close by his jerking hips.

Hermione was groaning, "Yes, Draco" far more loudly than she would ever admit to later on while Draco whispered nonsense to the ceiling. Both of his hands were holding her hips in place as he grinded against her, rapidly approaching his release. With a particularly loud groan and the feeling of him tensing behind her, Hermione knew that he had come undone. She was unsurprised that he was done before she was, that was always the case, wasn't it? (It was according to all the accounts that she had read.) Her hips continued to jerk against his for a few more seconds.

Draco recovered from his orgasm quickly and slithered his hand around her flushed body and into her underwear. Hermione gasped as he stimulated her clitoris, rubbing it in circles insistently. He made her move her hips against his own with his other hand. She felt her toes curling and was surprised at how near the edge she was. Draco worked away at her determinedly, grinding his hips against hers excruciatingly slowly while working his fingers surprisingly quickly. She was groaning again, much more loudly this time as she neared her peak.

"C'mon, Hermione," Draco coaxed.

And that was all it took, she tumbled off the precipice, her whole body stuttering to a stop as she moaned Draco's name to the heavens, or rather, the top of his very expensive looking canopy bed. She felt as if she had been struck by lightning in that moment, her whole body alive with electricity (or more accurately, magic). Her frozen body quickly caught up and grinded against his hand and hips as she rode through the rest of her orgasm. Draco turned her back over and pressed their bodies together. He moved his hips slowly against hers and captured her lips with his, kissing her gently until they had both calmed down.

Draco pulled away several minutes later and rolled onto his side. He reached for his wand blindly and scourgified them both. Hermione immediately rolled to spoon him, not liking the way the cold had set in when he left her. She should have been more embarrassed by her apparent neediness, but she wasn't. She liked the feeling of her bare chest against his. Hermione shoved a hand into his hair without asking and kissed his chest before laying her head against it.

"Please, make yourself at home," he teased, his voice the most lighthearted she had ever heard it.

"If you insist."

She felt him shift slightly and a moment later a duvet was covering her. Draco wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"You should know…that—er…" Hermione shifted to look at his face, and to her surprise he looked awkward. "I'm sorry that I came so early, I usually get a woman to have at least one orgasm before I even consider—"

"Draco, don't worry. You more than made up for it."

He nodded and she turned her head so that it was nestled more comfortably on him.

"Happy New Year," he said softly, resting his hand on her hair and playing with it.

"Happy New Year," Hermione agreed, snuggling closer into his chest.

-x-

Pansy was riding Ron with abandon, her head thrown back in passion. His big hands clutched her hips as if his life depended on it. His mattress squeaked loudly in time to her undulating body. Ron stared at her bouncing breasts, once again struck by the absurdity of his current position. Not only did he find Pansy oddly attractive, he was having sex with her for the second time, and hooking up with her for the third. She made it seem as if sex meant nothing to her, and maybe it didn't. But it meant something to Ron, at least with her it did. After the Yule Ball when she had dragged him to her mansion-like house and silenced his confusion with her lips pressed against his own Ron had chalked it up to being in desperate need of a good shag—which she was—and being mildly drunk—which he was. And yet, since that fateful night he found himself craving her presence, not that he would admit that to himself.

Ron slid a hand down her thigh and landed on her clit. He rubbed it in circles and Pansy's moans let him know how much she was enjoying the attention. Pansy slowed down her pace and leaned forward slightly, looking into Ron's bright blue eyes. Ron's gut clenched briefly when she held his gaze. She rolled her hips slowly, barely lifting her body from his. Ron's heart was hammering erratically and he could feel his release approaching.

"I'm close," he grunted.

Pansy nodded in understanding and sped up her thrusts again, her hand replacing his on her clit. Flesh hitting flesh echoed in Ron's small room. Pansy brought a hand up to her breast and began playing with it lightly. The image of the woman in front of him pleasuring herself while impaling herself on him repeatedly had Ron coming a few short moments later. Pansy rode him through his orgasm and continued to pleasure herself until, a few thrusts later, she tumbled over the edge herself. She collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily as her hips jerked against Ron's.

Pansy stayed straddling Ron, pressing her naked chest against his. Their breathing slowed down and she rolled off of him. Pansy sat up shortly afterward walking around his room casually. She bent to pick of her discarded dress. Ron watched her in silence.

"That was fun," she said nonchalantly. Pansy shimmied back into her little black dress. "We should do it again, soon."

Ron was that awkward cold that you get after sweating in the warmth then going outside into the cold and still being warm, but also being cold. He disliked it immensely and would have preferred to have the brunette in front of him still warming his bed.

"I can't find my knickers," Pansy said with a shrug. "You can keep them," she winked, "A little souvenir."

"Er…thanks?" he said uncertainly.

"Next time we should do my place, your mattress makes far too much noise," she said offhandedly. Pansy recovered her cloak and purse from the floor. She put both on and attempted to flatten her blatant sex hair.

"Okay."

"Also, my shower is bigger than yours," she commented a little snootily.

"How have you even seen my shower?" Ron threw back, a little annoyed with her easy dismissal of him and her judgement.

"I went pee," she said with an eye roll.

"Just because my flat isn't as extravagant as your mini mansion—"

"Ron, I don't care about that."

"Then why did you mention my shower?"

"Because I want to shag you in it, and yours is far too small to fit two people comfortably," she explained slowly and clearly.

"You what?"

Pansy smirked at him and blew him a kiss. "I'll owl you sometime. Happy New Year, Ron."

"You too," he returned, still destabilised by her declaration.

Ron watched her saunter out of his room with her heels in hand. A few seconds later he heard his front door close and the tell-tale crack of an apparition. Ron was looking forward to her owl far more than he would have liked. He realised then that he was her booty call. The sad part was that he didn't mind, in fact, he was excited by it.

-x-

Hermione cracked an eye open almost unwillingly. Bright sunlight stabbed her in the eye and she shut it and grumbled to herself, snuggling closer to the body underneath her. An arm travelled slowly down her bare back and came to rest on her waist. It pulled her closer. Hermione sighed in delight and allowed herself to doze off again. She loved the feeling of waking up to someone snuggling her.

Her eyes snapped open at the realisation that she was snuggling a man, and they were both quite nearly naked. She immediately opened her eyes again, forgetting about the strong sun streaming in through the window. Her first thought was that she had gone home with someone for a one night stand and she began to panic. Her thoughts began racing trying to think of the best way to get out of this situation. She figured the faster she acted the faster she would no longer have to deal with it. So she tensed her muscles in order to pull herself from this unknown man's side.

"Granger, go back to sleep," a voice grumbled above her. A familiar voice.

Then she remembered.

Hermione's face flushed immensely at the realisation that she had slept with Draco, as in stayed the night, not had sex. That they had, for lack of better expression, dry-humped their way into the New Year.

Draco shifted slightly below her and pulled her onto him more securely. Hermione opened her eyes again, this time more used to the brightness of the room, and now saw Draco's bare chest quite clearly.

"Bloody hell, woman. Do you ever sleep in? It's a holiday," he grumbled again, sounding more awake.

Hermione lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest at stare at him. His eyes were still firmly closed; he was even more attractive when his face was relaxed. She noted offhandedly that she didn't have a hangover, which seemed odd considering she had had a fair bit to drink the night before. His alcoholic potions were genius.

"Do you have curtains?" she retorted.

"Shh, I can't hear you. I'm sleeping."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but still decided that she should probably high tail it out of there before she did something crazy like have sex with the man beneath her. Her eyes widened at how easily that possibility came to her. She really needed to get away from him. Draco, as if reading her mind, tightened his hold on her.

"Go to sleep," he repeated.

Hermione realised that her best chance of getting out of there with as little fuss as possible was waiting for Draco to fall back asleep, so she relaxed her muscles and pretended to go back to sleep. She counted five minutes before she decided to make her move. Draco's arm had slackened somewhat on her waist and his breathing had evened out. Hermione moved to roll out of his grasp, but the blond followed her movements so that they were spooning instead. Hermione's eye twitched in annoyance; It was like the prat knew what she was about to do before she did it. Apparently she was going to have to vocalise her desire to leave his warm arms instead of just trying to sneak out. Muggle movies made this look so much easier.

She was about to speak when she felt Draco's hand trail up and down her side slowly. Hermione was unsure if she enjoyed the caress or if her ticklish side was acting up. Draco pulled her hair out of his way and laid a slow kiss on her neck.

"You can leave if you want to," he said softly. "I just would have preferred that you woke up after noon instead of several hours before it. Seriously, do you ever sleep in?"

Hermione was surprised by his words. He was right of course; she never really slept in, far too used to early work mornings or trips to the library. Now that she had been given permission to leave she hesitated. It was rather nice being snuggled up to him…

"Wait a minute," she realised, "We're underground."

"We are," Draco agreed, pressing another kiss to her neck, his hand lazily toying with the edge of her underwear.

Hermione was quickly distracted by him toying with her. Although, she pretended not to be: "So we're underground," she repeated.

"You already said that," he said, clearly amused.

"Then how…" His hand moved from her hip, following the top of her panties toward the front of her body. Hermione cleared her throat and continued, "Then how is the sun streaming so damn brightly through your curtain-less windows?" she tried to sound annoyed, grasping onto any emotion that wasn't desire as the blond behind her continued to play apparently absentmindedly with her clothing.

"Don't you work at the Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment.

"Same concept. I like daylight, I like moonlight. I, however, live underground."

"And—" One of his fingers slipped half an inch into her panties, only to pull back out just as quickly. Hermione cleared her throat noisily, flushing at how flustered he was making her. "Why don't you have curtains?"

"I do."

"Then why was I rudely awoken by the sun?" she countered.

"I forgot to close them last night," he replied, sounding unfazed.

"You forgot to—" Hermione started, angry at his forgetful slip that had resulted in her being blinded.

She was, however, interrupted by Draco trailing his tongue from the base of her neck to her earlobe. "I was distracted," he whispered into her ear.

"Oh," was her intelligent response.

"I wouldn't mind being distracted again," he mumbled, slipping another finger underneath her pantie line and leaving it there, waiting for her to say something.

Hermione's heart was racing by this point. And she really wanted to agree. But she recognised that were Draco any other man she would never have already spent the night with him when they weren't even officially dating. She barely knew anything about him! What was his favourite colour? Did he prefer eggs or toast in the morning? Her questions were thrown out the window as Draco's finger travelled a little lower underneath her lacy undergarments and his mouth was firmly attached to her neck.

"I—I should go," she finally managed to say.

Draco froze and unattached his mouth. She felt his hesitation, but he pulled his hand from out of her panties and rolled onto his back slowly. "As you wish," he said neutrally.

Hermione sat up, feeling very cold without the blond warming her. She blushed again realising that she was mostly naked. Hermione glanced around for her dress, wand, shoes, and bra. However, she was only able to locate her dress, heels, and wand, and in her rush she just threw the dress on and shoved her heels onto her feet awkwardly. Her hair pulled awkwardly on her head and she realised that she had left it in the bun overnight. The flowers had gone missing. She stood by the door and looked at the man stretched out on the bed in front of her. He was far too attractive for his own good. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Can you let me into the lift?" she asked awkwardly, looking at the floor.

Draco sat up slowly. "Of course. Sorry, I keep forgetting about that. I don't think anyone's stayed here overnight, so I've never had…"

Hermione's eyes snapped to his own wide ones. He clearly didn't mean to reveal to her that she was the ONLY WOMAN who had ever spent the night at his place. Hermione tore her eyes away from his and pointedly looked away from his body because seeing him all sleepy and mostly naked was doing weird things to her. Draco walked past her casually and held the door open to his office. They walked to the lift side by side in silence. Awkward silence. Draco summoned the lift and turned to face Hermione.

"Listen, Hermione. I hope that you don't regret last night. Because I don't." His eyes glanced away from hers as he said this.

Hermione shifted awkwardly. "I don't," she admitted as the lift doors dinged open. "It's just that…normally I wouldn't spend the night with someone that I'm not dating. And I'm not…used to doing stuff like this. So, sorry if it seems like I'm fleeing but—"

"What're you doing tomorrow night?" he interrupted.

"I was planning on working late to make up for taking today off…"

"Come have dinner with me. As in, a date, and unlike our last one, this is not a date between friends" he clarified, stepping closer to her.

"Er…"

Draco placed a hand on her waist leisurely, once again at ease in her presence. "We can eat here in my office and watch some of that muggle moving picture magic on my computer."

Hermione smiled at him. The offer was very tempting. "Why?"

"Because if you come on a date with me, we'll be dating," he reasoned. "And if we're dating, it's completely acceptable for you to be spending the night with my beautiful self," he concluded.

Hermione laughed at his reason. "Your self-esteem clearly needs no inflation. And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm not opposed to a date…"

Draco tugged her to him by the waist as the lift doors slide shut without Hermione in it. "Good," he declared triumphantly before kissing her soundly. His kiss had Hermione wanting to wrap her legs around his waist and force him back into bed. The lift doors dinged open again and Draco pulled out of their kiss, pushing her into the lift. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Granger." He kissed her again briefly.

Draco stepped out of the lift and waved his wand. The door slid shut on his beaming face.

Hermione leaned back, taking a deep breath, not entirely believing that she and Draco Malfoy were for all intents and purposes dating, or at least, going on dates. She sighed dreamily. He sure knew how to give a goodbye kiss. She then realised that she was not wearing a bra, nor a cloak and sincerely hoped that no one was working on New Year's Day.

-x-

"How was your New Year's Hermione?" Gladys asked kindly from behind her desk the following morning.

Hermione blushed fiercely. She knew that Gladys could have known nothing because she had specifically checked the papers that morning, only then realising the potential that her and Draco were photographed together or that she was photographed leaving his office, clearly having spent the night. She would have to talk to him about that.

Nonetheless, Hermione not so subtly covered her (already glamoured) neck to hide the several hickeys and love bites left there by Draco. "It was lovely, thanks for asking Gladys. How was yours?" she replied evenly.

"Lovely, dear, just lovely. The grandkids came round and we watched the Muggle countdown on my old tele." Gladys eyed Hermione's neck and the brunette had the eerie feeling that she knew exactly what Hermione was hiding. She really ought to have worn a scarf.

"Having a day off was nice, but I feel as if I wasted so much time not working, and the library wasn't even open."

Gladys smiled at Hermione's ridiculous work ethic. "Only you, my dear."

"I'll be in my office," Hermione smiled before walking off thinking of the million and one things that still needed to be done in the next month before the workshops started.

She had a meeting later that day to deal with workshop selection times and foreseeable special circumstances, followed immediately by a meeting with her twenty four instructors on the final curriculum, followed by a trip to Hogwarts to finalise details with Minerva McGonagall. Hermione sighed, already exhausted before the day even began.

She checked her email which was blissfully empty, as usual (since very few wizards actually used email and she mostly communicated with Muggle contacts through it), except for one from Draco. Hermione's heart sped up a little as she opened the message.

_Granger,_

_I hope you're not working too hard. I'm looking forward to our date tonight. I'll meet you in the lobby at seven. Wear something hot._

_DM_

_P.S. I'm joking, wear something comfortable._

Hermione smiled at his message and responded.

_Draco,_

_I'm probably coming straight from work, which means I may be a little fancy. Hope that's not an issue. I'll be away from my email all day, so don't bother sending me any more messages because I'll miss them. See you tonight!_

_Hermione._

She sent the email, turned off her computer and double checked that she had agendas for all of her meetings and knew what she was going to be talking about before heading out.

-x-

Hermione's head rested on Draco's shoulder as she snuggled up to him on the couch that he had transfigured earlier that evening. He had cooked her a delicious ravioli dish for dinner and they had shared a few glasses of wine before progressing to cuddling on his transfigured couch in front of Shrek. Hermione was surprised by his movie choice, but he apparently owned a fair few DVDs and Shrek was one of them.

Hermione had never seen the movie because she rarely had time to watch anything or go to the movies with her busy work schedule. She, nevertheless, was enjoying it immensely. She turned her head to see Draco's reactions to the movie and instead saw him looking down at her.

"You're supposed to be watching the movie, silly."

Draco shrugged and tilted his head toward her. "You're much more entertaining." He pressed his lips to her own which of course had Hermione returning the gesture and before she knew it she was straddling his lap, Shrek long forgotten.

"We're supposed to be watching a movie," she reminded him as he kissed up and down her neck.

"This is better," Draco argued. His hands pulled her waist flush against his and she found herself agreeing.

She groaned in response as his hand crawled under her dress shirt. However, after a few seconds she realised that she was falling right back into what she was trying to avoid.

"Draco,"

"Mmm," he mumbled between kisses.

"We should stop."

He pulled away from her reluctantly.

"I'm sorry," she said into the tension between them.

"Don't be. I just don't understand, Granger. You said it yourself on New Year's that you're done denying this," he gestured between them. "So why are you doing it again?"

"I'm not denying that I want this," she admitted uncomfortably, "Or I clearly wouldn't be straddling you. But I'm just not used to moving so quickly."

Draco nodded, retracting his hand from her shirt. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. We just need to establish some ground rules." He nodded. "Clothes stay on…for now?"

Draco looked like he didn't want to agree to that, but after a tense moment he nodded.

"I mean, it is only our second date," Hermione reasoned.

"I have not been a gentleman. Usually I don't move so quickly. I'm sorry, Hermione."

"No, Draco it's not you—"

He gently pushed her off of him and positioned her so that they were snuggling again. "Shh, this is the best part of the movie," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as if nothing had just happened.

Hermione allowed herself to relax into him and she wondered if she had done the right thing. She hadn't ever really set boundaries before with people that she was dating, but they often never got past first date because she had yet to find anyone who made her want to go any further. Unlike Draco, whose simple presence in a room made her want to be in his arms, naked and moaning. Maybe she had been too strict in her boundaries…

The movie credits began rolling and Hermione realised that she had majorly zoned out.

"What did you think, Granger?" Draco asked, in an oddly chipper mood.

"It was great," she lied (only because she had not fully watched the movie, not because Shrek is not a good movie, because it's a great movie [Shrek is love]).

Draco turned off his computer and sat back down beside her, his arm slung over her shoulders casually.

"Did I ever tell you that Madam Pomfrey gave me the sex talk, that morning after I came to visit you in the Hospital Wing?" Hermione asked abruptly.

Draco looked down at her a smile tugging at his lips. "Me too."

"No way!"

"She did."

Hermione started laughing and he joined in. She couldn't remember the last time that he had laughed with such abandon in front of her and Hermione quite liked it.

"She gave me a bunch of condoms," Draco said, almost nostalgic.

"Me too!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Who knew they would come in handy when I lived in Muggle London," Draco laughed again.

Hermione frowned. She was astonished that he had sex with any Muggles at all. In fact, the idea that he had done the deed with anyone right after the War surprised her a lot. She knew that he no longer held fast to his previous prejudices, but the idea of him six and a half years ago cavorting with Muggle women…

"Are you jealous, Granger?" he asked.

"Of course not!" she denied. "I'm just amazed is all, that you convinced any muggle to share your obnoxiously large bed."

"Your lack of faith is upsetting." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I used all of those condoms from the good old Madam Pomfrey," he said with a glint in his eyes.

"I'd rather not know, thanks, Malfoy," she huffed.

"You are jealous!" he declared triumphantly.

"Why would I be jealous? We're not even dating and it happened in the past."

"You can lie to yourself," he joked.

"To be honest I was so embarrassed at the time when Madam Pomfrey forced me into having that little chat with her, and I wanted to hex your bollocks off for it, but now, I am very glad that it happened. I mean, my par—" Hermione quickly cut herself off and changed what she was going to say midsentence, "How else would I have learned about wizarding contraception. It's a serious problem in the wizarding community; the lack of education, that is."

"Wow, way to turn this into a cause that you can help. Next you'll be giving sex education workshops."

Hermione glared at him. "Maybe I will hex your bollocks off," she said with narrowed eyes. Draco seemed unafraid of her admittedly empty threat.

"I'd like to see you try," he smirked.

"How was living in Muggle London?" Hermione asked, changing the topic.

"Different."

"A classic Malfoy one word response I see."

Draco sighed. "It was bloody hard, Granger. Is that what you want to hear? I've never appreciated magic more in my life than when I lived there. Muggles are smart, I'll give them that; all the things that they've thought up to cope without magic…But it was also hard because I had to lie to everyone that I met… I was working in a library," Hermione's jaw dropped, "Try to keep your pants on, Granger. I was working at a library and I had a few acquaintances who I still keep up with, and it's impossibly hard having to lie to them about everything that I am. How did you deal with that with your neighbours and childhood friends?"

Hermione was a mess of emotion after his unexpected openness; Draco was actually speaking about himself, he had worked at a library (she _was_ finding it hard to keep her pants on after that declaration, the image alone…), and he recognised the real struggle that she faced every time she returned home for the holidays.

"It's hard," was her response.

"What, have we switched personalities now? You can only give one or two word answers?" he laughed.

"I don't know what else to say. When I used to go home for the holidays I would have to lie about everything that I was learning. I always felt like an idiot around my Muggle friends because I didn't know anything that they were learning in school I used to study before leaving just so that I would be up to date on Muggle happenings," Hermione laughed to herself about this. "It's hard living the double life. But I love my roots as much as I love being a witch. That's why I live in Muggle London."

"Why don't you go home for the holidays anymore?" Draco asked curiously, having picked up on her use of the past tense.

Hermione tensed. "I'm an adult now," she said trying to sound casual.

"Mother insists that I visit her on Christmas Day. Which is saying something since she moved back to France," he laughed.

"I'm sure she appreciates it," Hermione said sadly.

Draco eyed her questioningly, but seemed to let it drop. "Oh, speaking of Muggle London, the ladies loved me," he winked. "I always had the best party tricks…"

Hermione smacked his arm. "Don't tell me that you did wandless magic in front of them!"

Draco shrugged in response. "I'm not admitting to anything."

"That's illegal, Malfoy!" she scolded. _And also impressive_, she added in her mind. Wandless magic was very hard to achieve, especially at a young age.

"Good thing I've admitted to nothing then," he smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why did you and Weasley break up?" Draco asked suddenly.

Hermione shrugged. "We weren't that great together. He was everything that I thought that I wanted, but it turns out that we can't really live in the same house without wanting to kill the other. And that he snores something fierce. And he never puts the cap on the toothpaste and it just about drives me nuts. And this one time—!"

"Okay, I get the picture," Draco chuckled.

"We also didn't have the best…chemistry," Hermione blushed.

"Meaning the sex was terrible," Draco deadpanned.

"We just weren't the best together."

In fact when she had finally plucked up the courage to do the dead with an equally nervous and inexperienced Ron she had felt nothing but awkward. The feeling of him moving inside of her felt so against everything that symbolised their relationship. It was at that moment that she realised that she only loved him as a friend. The subsequent four months that they stayed together after that only cemented this fact and solidified her decision to leave him. It was an amicable break up, Ron agreeing that he felt weird being intimate with her. Mrs. Weasley was probably the person the most upset by their separation, holding out the hope that they would get back together for several months.

"No need to sugar coat it. That's royally shitty because he was your first wasn't he? And I bet he was complete shit," Draco said callously.

Despite the fact that his words couldn't have rung truer Hermione found herself defending Ron. "He was very sweet, and considerate—"

"And shit in bed," Draco finished for her. Draco realised something. "And it was probably worse because you knew what it was like to have a real orgasm thanks to yours truly," he declared proudly.

Hermione blushed brightly and once again silently agreed with his analysis.

"Please tell me that you've at least had someone who knows what they're doing since him."

Hermione stared off into space vaguely, remembering one scorching night with a Muggle a few months after she and Ron had broken up. It was one of three one night stands that she had had in her life. This one being the first and an astounding success (the second being three years later and a terrible failure, the third being mediocre). She had met the Muggle in a bar, and feeling rather brash, Hermione had invited herself back to his apartment after a mere thirty minutes of speaking with him. It was actually not the safest, reflecting back on it. But they had this odd pull toward one another, and she always had her wand if anything went south…and, boy, did he go south. She smiled at the memory.

"I'll take that as a yes," Draco responded. He added on in a voice full of dark promises, "Don't worry. I'll make sure to show you how great it's supposed to be."

Hermione shivered, bringing her eyes to his. "I look forward to that," she said, instantly ready to drag him to his bed in the other room.

"If I'm ever allowed to…" he said sarcastically.

"I just don't want to move too—"

Draco cut her off, "I'm just joking. Snogging you is more than fine. For now."

To prove his point, Draco pushed her onto her back, slid on top of her and attached his lips to hers. Hermione tangled her hands into his hair happily.

Sometime later, when the couple had finally separated, Hermione sat holding his hand, just like old times. Her head was rested on his shoulder.

"Draco," she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes?"

"I don't think that we should tell anyone about our rela—er—us."

His hand stiffened ever so slightly. "Why's that?"

"Not because I want to hide you!" she clarified quickly, and he relaxed ever so slightly. "But because I really don't want to deal with the press. I mean, at least until we know where we stand. We've been fairly lucky so far, I don't think that I'm being stalked by any photographers and no one's camping out outside of the Ministry."

"I thought that where we stand was fairly obvious," he replied somewhat icily.

"Where do we stand?" she asked hesitantly.

"We're seeing one another," he explained slowly. "Or rather, technically we're dating, since this is in fact a date."

By this point they were facing one another, their hands still entwined. "Exclusively?" Hermione asked shyly.

Draco's hand tightened around hers briefly. "Don't tell me you're seeing some other bloke and I'm your back up," he replied jokingly, but the glint in his eyes showed that he would be less than thrilled were she actually seeing someone else.

Hermione laughed at the idea of dating two men at the same time. "No I'm not."

"Granger, you're not my girlfriend," this made Hermione a little sad for some reason, "but that doesn't mean that I want to be sharing spit with some other bloke who's far less attractive than I am."

"You have such a way with words, Malfoy."

"We can keep it quiet between us, if that's what you want. Personally, I would never invite more attention from the press."

"Oh, Harry, Ron, and Ginny already know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Big surprise. Pansy knows as well."

"So I guess we're dating then…" Hermione concluded shyly.

Draco kissed her sweetly in response. A moment later he led Hermione to his elevator.

"Thanks for the date, Granger," Draco said happily, his hand in hers.

"My pleasure," she responded in kind.

"I already have an idea for the next one. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

Hermione nodded. "What's your idea?"

"You'll have to wait and see."

"Okay, but I get to plan the next three because this will be three in a row that you've planned, and that's hardly fair."

Draco smiled broadly. "The next three, eh?"

Hermione blushed, but nodded.

"I think someone likes me a little more than they're letting on," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his inflated ego (and correct statement). "Get over yourself."

Draco smiled and pulled her into a chaste kiss. He summoned the lift and waited for her to board it. "I'll see you tomorrow then. I'll email you the details."

"Just don't send me a million emails, Draco, I do have a job that I need to do and last time I had to turn off my computer to stop being distracted by you."

Draco looked very proud of this fact. "You're working on a Saturday?"

Hermione nodded. "I have a lot that needs to get done before Monday. I was planning on working from 9 until noon."

"Granger, it's a Saturday, you're supposed to sleep in."

"As you so kindly told me a few days ago, I never sleep in. Now promise not to send me a million emails."

I promise," he lied blatantly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, about to protest, but he waved his wand and the doors started to slide shut.

"See you tomorrow, Granger!" Draco called happily before being cut off by his ritzy lift.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Because where I am it's technically Saturday. **

**P.S. A collective of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope, who knew?**

Chapter 12: Saturday Fun

Hermione checked her email at 10:15, needing a break from answering owl post. She expected a handful of emails from Draco. There were ten. TEN. Hermione sighed and started to read them starting from the earliest sent one (9 am).

_Granger,_

_Meet in my lobby,_

_DM_

_Granger,_

_At noon._

_DM_

_Granger,_

_Make sure that you've eaten lunch, I'm not feeding you too._

_DM_

_Granger,_

_Bring a Muggle coat._

_DM_

_Granger,_

_How's work going?_

_DM_

_Granger,_

_Let's meet on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron instead, less chance of being seen._

_DM_

_Granger,_

_I hope I'm not distracting you from work. That would be terrible. Because it is a regular old work day and all…oh wait. No it isn't. It's a Saturday and every sane person in the world doesn't volunteer to do extra work on a Saturday. Who's the workaholic now?_

_DM_

_Granger,_

_Have you gotten my other emails? You haven't responded yet._

_DM_

_Granger,_

_I'll keep emailing you until you answer me._

_DM_

_Granger._

_ I think that you should get one of those telephones so that I can actually know that you're getting my messages._

_DM_

Hermione laughed at his persistence.

_Draco,_

_I'll see you outside of the Leaky at noon, don't worry, I'll eat lunch. I did receive all ten of your emails. I assume that we're going somewhere in Muggle London then? You are distracting me from work, please cease and desist. I find it a little hypocritical that you make fun of me for waking up early on a Saturday, but here you are, emailing me at 9 am. I'll see you soon,_

_Hermione._

Hermione sent off the email and didn't check hers again until quarter to noon. She was tying her hair into a diagonal French braid as she read:

_Hermione,_

_We are going to Muggle London. I am oh so very sorry to hear that I'm distracting you. I also had work that I wanted to get done this morning which is why I was awake much earlier than I would have liked. Make sure to dress warm, we will be walking a bit of a ways._

_Draco._

Hermione smiled in excitement. She pulled on one of her Weasley Christmas jumpers and a scarf, as well as her winter boots, coat, and mittens. Hermione fed Crookshanks and trundled down her stairs and out of her building to the alleyway. She apparated a moment later.

-x-

Pansy awoke with a start. She quickly gathered that she had fallen asleep after shagging Ron the night before, and that she had failed to kick him out. Ron was pressed against her back, softly snoring into her ear. It wasn't his snoring that had woken her however and she glanced around her dark room trying to determine the reason why she had awoken. She glanced at the clock that hung above her open bedroom door. It was 10:15 in the morning. Pansy eyed the trail of clothing leading from her hallway to her bed and snuggled back into the naked man behind her.

She was still a little baffled by their relationship. Ron was a very decent human being, quite funny, and had a massive dick, but the idea of a Parkinson with a Weasley was still a very foreign concept. Not to mention that she had spent a good part of her childhood mocking the red head (she had already apologised for this, but just saying 'I'm sorry' didn't mean much). She doubted that this odd attraction that she had for the freckled red head would last much longer, even if Pansy was spending more time with him than she usually would with one of her flings… She however, always had a steadfast rule (unless she was dating someone) that she would never stay the night at someone else's and he would never stay the night at hers. It was for this reason that she was a little baffled by the fact that she had spent the entire night with Ron pressed against her, well more so baffled that she hadn't kicked him out. Wanting to detract as much as possible from this fact, Pansy decided to pretend as if she wasn't shaken by his presence, which she very much was.

She chose that moment to roll out of his arms and pounce on him, wanting nothing more than a nice hot shower. Really she wanted to have a bath with Ron, but she thought it might be a little too intimate for people who were just shagging. Ron's eyes opened blearily and he tried to shove her off of him, unsuccessfully. He stopped fighting when he realised that it was Pansy lying across him. She was a little surprised at his terrible reaction time, even if he was asleep, because he was an Auror after all.

"Morning," she said sweetly in his half open puffy sleep-filled eyes.

Ron grumbled incoherently and closed his eyes. Pansy pushed the covers off of him so that she could straddle his naked form. That had his eyes opening again very fast.

"Morning," Pansy repeated, grinding her hips against his as he began to wake up.

Ron cleared his throat. "Bloody hell, woman," he grumbled.

Pansy leaned down to snog the sleepiness out of him. Ron responded enthusiastically, shoving his hands into her short sleek hair. Pansy pulled away rather quickly.

"I was thinking of having a shower. Care to join?" she asked casually. Without waiting for a response Pansy clambered off of him and the bed, and sauntered over to her master bathroom, stark naked. She felt the heat of his gaze follow her and then heard the sound of him bounding to his feet to jog after her.

She really ought to have kicked him out after their glorious shag in the shower, but she instead invited him for breakfast, and then asked if he wanted to join her location hunting around Muggle London for an upcoming muggleborn wedding that she was planning. Ron surprised her by agreeing. They held hands the whole afternoon, even sharing the odd kiss or two while exploring some old churches—to the great disapproval of the priests. All of the churches were disappointingly terrible fits for what she was looking for. Ron made the day more eventful by joking about the priests and architecture, quite crudely actually. By the time the two parted, after Ron had kissed her goodbye thoroughly, it was late afternoon.

He had said that he would see her around, making Pansy wonder what he thought their relationship was. Pansy realised that she should probably let the poor bloke know that she was just using him for his body. Ron had even thanked her for a lovely day. Pansy had, obviously, played it off to mean nothing, but she had never taken anyone scouting with her before, not even Draco. It was then that she realised that she had a problem on her hands. What was she doing spending an entire day with a non-boyfriend? Pansy decided to pay her blond best friend a visit so that they could discuss it and he could make her see the error of her ways. They'd probably end the night drinking firewhiskey and trash talking their parents, as usual. Pansy smiled, looking forward to getting drunk (and trash talking her parents, from whom she was estranged).

It was to Pansy's surprise that when she exited the lift to Draco's office she found Hermione Granger straddling Draco's lap on his desk chair, their lips fused together. Pansy was surprised because she wasn't aware that the two had kissed at all, Draco had been decidedly mute on that. All that she knew was that Draco clearly fancied Hermione and Hermione seemed as if she was likewise interested. And that they had been on one date together. She had been meaning to ask how his New Year's Eve had gone, but Pansy had dragged Ron out shortly after one in the morning and returned to his small flat with him. Judging by the way the two were kissing, Pansy would hazard a guess that it had gone fairly well.

She debated whether she ought to clear her throat and interrupt the blissful couple or duck out gracefully before they noticed her presence. Pansy, never being one to be subtle, or really considerate for that matter, decided to be a nuisance.

"Hello!" she called from beside the lift. She really ought to have left and returned with a camera in order to capture Hermione's look of utter mortification; that was something that she would only see once in a lifetime.

-x-

Hermione pushed her way through the surprisingly crowded Leaky Cauldron to the rarely used front door leading to the Muggle street. Draco was already there, looking adorable in his knitted hat and scarf. Hermione hurried over to him and hugged him without a second thought. She also kissed him on the cheek. This had her blushing and glancing around at the Muggle street. Draco stepped away slightly, but she noticed that his cheeks were a little red.

She eyed his Muggle wear with interest. _Of course he looks good as a wizard and a Muggle_, Hermione thought, a little, annoyed.

"Granger," Draco greeted eventually.

"Why do you keep calling me Granger? I thought that we decided to call each other by our first names at the Yule Ball," Hermione said in way of greeting.

Draco shrugged. "I'm too used to Granger…does it bother you?"

Hermione shrugged. "I just remember a certain someone throwing a hissy fit back in school when I used his last name instead of his first name."

Draco scoffed. "Well I do prefer when you call me Draco. Do you prefer when I call you Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged again. "I don't mind either way. It's just something that I noticed."

"We're going this way," he indicated with a head tilt, shoving his hands into his black designer Muggle coat.

Hermione matched his pace and they continued down the mostly empty and bloody cold streets (probably why they were so empty). When they were about a ten minute walk from the Leaky Cauldron Draco's mitted hand wrapped around hers. Hermione glanced down at their entwined hands and realised that she was grinning like an idiot. Draco was looking forward, determinedly avoiding her gaze. They walked for about twenty minutes in silence, Hermione snuggling her nose into her scarf as the cold really began to set in. She was just about to complain about it when Draco stopped walking and lead her into a building. She didn't get the chance to see the name of it before she was dragged into the decidedly boiling lobby.

Hermione took one quick look around and gasped.

"You didn't."

Draco had to hold back his wide grin. "I did."

Hermione actually jumped up and down a little in excitement; he had brought her to a library. More specifically the London Library. Hermione had been there twice before when she was younger. Both trips had been magical experiences before she even knew what magic was. The library had that old quaint London feel to it while simultaneously being state of the art. She was so excited she started exploring while removing her jacket and mittens in one fluid motion. She stopped short, remembering that she was there with someone, was in fact on a date.

Hermione turned around to see Draco following her. "Why a library?" she whispered.

"Well, I figure that's where it all started between us, and you love to read. I mean, I also enjoy reading…and, er—do you think that it's a terrible idea? We should go, I got a lunch reservation just in case you hated it—" Draco babbled nervously.

Hermione closed the distance between them by placing a heated kiss on his cold lips. She worked at warming them up with her own. When they were slightly warmer she pulled away, flushed and realising that PDA was frowned upon by most, and more specifically by him. To detract from the moment, Hermione placed her hand in his and dragged him toward the fiction section. By the time they arrived there all of their outdoor gear had been stripped and Draco was dutifully holding all of it while Hermione perused the stacks. They stumbled upon a table in the far corner and left their stuff there, trusting their fellow library-goers to not steal from them.

They continued to hold hands as Hermione chattered away quietly about her favourite books growing up. Every once in a while Draco would surprise her by having read a book or two when he had worked as a librarian himself. Draco even admitted to having read a few Muggle books that he had found in the Muggle Studies section back in fifth year. He had surprised himself by enjoying them immensely.

Whenever he talked about Muggle authors Hermione couldn't help herself; she pinned him to the nearest bookshelf and shoved her tongue down his throat, usually cutting him off mid-sentence. Or whenever he talked about working as a librarian… These impromptu snog sessions began lasting longer and longer until a librarian stumbled upon them. Hermione had never been more embarrassed; the woman probably thought that she didn't even care about literature and had just wanted a warm place to snog her boyfriend. The thought alone had Hermione flushing in shame and standing as far away from Draco as the aisles permitted. Fortunately, the librarian, an elderly south Asian man with large glasses and a killer comb over, said nothing and merely smiled at them before walking away.

"Maybe we should split up for a bit?" Draco suggested. "Since you seem incapable of keeping your hands off of me." Draco and taken her hand in his again the moment the librarian had left the aisle.

Hermione didn't want to detach her hand from his, far too accustomed to it by this point, but she agreed. "Let's try and find a book that neither of us has read."

"That'll be a challenge with you around."

"I'll be in the travel section, come find me in ten minutes."

Hermione stood of her toes and kissed him again. Draco's hands descended to her waist comfortably and he turned his head to deepen the kiss. Hermione was once again shoved against one of the bookshelves snogging Draco far too enthusiastically.

"Ew," a voice commented startling Hermione out of Draco's arms.

An adorable toddler stood at the end of the stacks looking absolutely horrified, probably due to the fear of cooties. Hermione was simultaneously offended by his rudeness, embarrassed by her boldness, all while agreeing that she and Draco should not have been snogging in a library.

"Sorry," Hermione squeaked. The old man just walked away shaking his head.

Draco chuckled softly and tucked a piece of hair that had fallen out of Hermione's pony tail behind her ear. "Ten minutes," he promised before strutting away down the aisle.

Hermione watched Draco walk away, staring at his tightly clad arse. She ripped her eyes away not believing herself and adamantly pulled her eyes away from her. She forced herself to wander down a hallway until she found the travel section. Hermione came across a book that had an interesting design on the spine, so she picked it up and began flipping through the pages while walking down the rest of the aisle. She bumped into someone and apologised without looking up. She continued walking until the arm on her shoulder tore her from her perusal of Madrid.

"Earth to Hermione," Draco said slowly.

"That's a Muggle expression," she responded, her knuckles clenching her book in order to stop herself from jumping the man across from her. Now he was speaking like a Muggle? This man was really testing her will power.

Draco smirked, "I know," obviously knowing what he was doing to her.

"Draco, you need to stop, because we're in public," she whispered back harshly. "We've already had to separate once…"

"Stop what?" he asked with a cheeky grin. "What're you reading?"

"A travel book." Hermione sank to the ground to sit cross-legged and continue her reading, trying adamantly to ignore him and mostly succeeding.

Draco sank down beside her. "Madrid is lovely," he commented.

"You've been?"

"Yes."

"Of course you have," she sighed and turned the page.

"Tokyo is also lovely. Did you know that the wizards there have fully integrated technology into their everyday lives? It's very impressive."

"I should email them, get some pointers. When did you go to Japan?" she inquired enviously.

"Ages ago, maybe in third year?" he tried to remember. "Where have you been?"

"The UK and France."

"Where in France? Do you speak French?"

"All over, we did a month long tour of the main cities. I speak a little French."

"I'm French," Draco said offhandedly.

"That would explain your fashion finesse. Do you speak French?"

"Not as well as I would like, but yes. And I'm flattered that you appreciate my clothing," he smirked.

Hermione turned the page pondering this new tid bit of information. She halted at the sight of Australia. Her hand trembled slightly. Draco was quick to cover it with his. His other hand turned her head away from the page to look into his grey eyes.

"Want to go for tea?"

Hermione nodded. Draco closed the book for her and rose to his feet. He offered a hand to help Hermione who accepted gladly. He held her hand the whole way, his thumb brushing against her knuckles reassuringly. Just having him reassuring her so casually allowed her to stop thinking about Australia and her parents. Draco led them back to their secluded corner where their coats were luckily still sitting. On the way there he tossed the travel book onto one of the return carts. She thought that he might have known about her parents, judging by his reaction, but she knew that she had never told him anything about it, and it had been blissfully absent from the papers. Hermione put her coat on silently.

It suddenly occurred to her, "Is this where you worked? During your year of community service?"

Draco smiled, but disagreed. "No. I wish; this is a wonderful library. I was at a much smaller one more on the outskirts of the city, they didn't want to put me too close to the entrance to Wizarding London, fearing I would give into the temptation to enter Diagon Alley."

"Can we go see the one that you worked at?" she asked shyly.

Draco hesitated. He wasn't sure that he wanted his ex-co-workers to meet Hermione; he hadn't seen any of them in over six months which would mean that he'd have to lie to them again about why he quit and where he lived and how he knew Hermione, and what he'd been doing for the past six months, etc.

"It's okay if you don't want to," she said quickly. "Explaining me may be hard. What did you tell them when you quit?"

"I said that my mom was sick and that I wanted to spend more time with her, that I was moving back home and going to become a pharmacist, a life-long dream of mine."

Hermione's heart panged, knowing fair well that Narcissa Malfoy had almost died shortly after Draco had returned from his community service. It was rumoured that it was Draco who had nursed her back to health by developing a potion specifically tailored to heal her. Hermione was still quite impressed by this fact.

"Have you actually always wanted to start a potions business?" she asked as they snaked their way out of the library, putting their coats, scarves, and mittens back on.

Draco hesitated before responding, "Yes."

Walking through the library doors was like getting slapped in the face by the cold January air. Draco took her hand again and he led her to a bustling coffee shop a block away. She sighed in contentment when they re-entered the warmth. They joined the queue. Draco ordered first, an earl grey tea, bag in, black. Hermione ordered a cinnamon chai tea, bag out, one milk. They paid separately and Hermione was shocked to see that Draco had Muggle money, which she probably shouldn't have been, considering that he had planned to go to Muggle London. They found an empty table in the centre of the shop and sat down across from one another. Hermione took his hand and held it on the table.

"I think that it's safe to say that you're enjoying our date so far," Draco said offhandedly.

Hermione nodded vigorously, not even embarrassed. "How could I not? I love that library!"

Draco smirked. "I'm surprised at how long we were there for."

"It was hardly an hour," Hermione scoffed.

Draco checked his watch. "It was two and a half hours, Granger."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "No."

"Yes."

"But…But…"

"Well between you fainting and going to heaven every aisle that you turned down, and you throwing yourself at me, I'd say that we ate our way through a lot of time."

This time Hermione did blush. "I did not throw myself at you," she countered.

"I believe that I had to literally catch you twice. We almost toppled a bookshelf, once."

Hermione sputtered, "I did not—you were—and—urgh!" she huffed because he was very right: they had almost toppled a bookshelf. "It's not my fault that every time you say something about literature I momentarily stop thinking clearly," she muttered.

"I do tend to have that effect on people."

Hermione shoved him playfully. "Oh shut it." Hermione took a sip of her tea and insisted, "Tell me about your library."

"What do you want to know?"

"What was your job title exactly, were you a researcher, desk person, always in the stacks?"

"Try to keep your pants on, Granger. I did all three."

"What was your favourite part?" she asked eagerly, and was pleasantly surprised when Draco answered most of her questions about his library. Hermione found out that he liked being in the stacks most because he didn't have to interact with anyone and was able to just make sure that everything was in its proper place (yes, she did refrain from hopping across the table to ravage his mouth, but only just), he didn't mind the customer service aspect so long as the people were not complete idiots (his words), he enjoyed most of all, the silence of it all, being able to think.

It was to no one's surprise that Hermione found herself side along apparating with Draco directly into his office an hour later. He had promised to make her more tea and show her his current project in his personal lab. And he did just that.

"It's an anxiety potion. It's more powerful than most and hardly addictive," Draco said, indicating the bubbling potion in the first cauldron on his long work table. He was tidying his lab as he explained.

"Hardly addictive?" She took a sip of her tea; peppermint and just brewed to perfection. Hermione was sitting on one of his stools primly, a little afraid of touching anything.

"Well most are—"

"Highly addictive, I know."

"So I've managed to make this one only somewhat so. It uses more common ingredients too, so it'll cost less, which is good because the previous recipes were very costly and most people forwent the potion altogether." Draco finally took a seat opposite her. "I'm trying to make it completely non-addictive, but that'll take more time it seems…"

As he spoke about helping others Hermione wanted to throw herself at him for the _n_th time that day. Hermione realised with a start that she was far too attracted to the potions inventor in front of her.

He didn't seem to notice that she had zoned out and was indicating another bubbling potion on his workbench. "We've also come up with a few dreamless sleep potions, or rather, we've tweaked the existing recipes in order to make them more effective, less addictive, etc. I'm also personally trying to find a way to make the wolfsbane potion more effective and longer lasting. I know a lot of people were bitten during the War and are still not comfortable with what they've become or what their children may become. In fact we're looking into developing a potion that will suppress the onsite of werewolfism before it starts, but that's more of a side project…"

That was it, Hermione was across the lab, shoving her hands into his hair and pulling his face down to meet her lips for the twentieth—not that she was keeping count or anything—time that day. Draco groaned at her ferocity, but pulled away quickly.

"Not in that lab," she frowned at this and he clarified, "it's dangerous."

Hermione glanced at the table full of bubbling cauldrons and felt rather foolish. Draco really made her lose most of her common sense. Draco led her out of his lab quickly and brought Hermione toward his desk. He was about to transfigure his armchairs into a sofa, but Hermione pulled him over to his desk chair and pushed him onto it. He looked at her incredulously, surprised by her audacity as she straddled him without hesitation and reattached their lips. Her whole body was alight with pleasure and even the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to be standing on end. Hermione, with little reflection of her actions, unbuttoned her blouse at record speed. She was surprised when Draco didn't immediately latch onto her breasts, and somewhat disappointed. She then of course realised that they had agreed upon closes staying on.

"You can touch me," Hermione said between kisses.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Draco nodded and a moment later Hermione felt his hand crawling up her stomach. Draco was just shy of her bra-clad breast when someone spoke behind them.

"Hello!" greeted a female voice loudly.

Hermione turned around on reflex to see Pansy eyeing them and twisted back around just as quickly. Hermione stared into Draco's grey eyes to see annoyance flit across them. Hermione was beyond embarrassed and shoved her head into Draco's neck in the hopes that Pansy would just go away.

Pansy continued to eye the couple with an amused expression. She hadn't missed the fact that Hermione was wearing a button down shirt whose buttons were very much undone. Hermione was wearing a nice bra, Pansy would have to ask her where she got it. Draco wrapped his arms around her protectively and glared at Pansy.

"What do you want?" he growled.

Pansy stayed near the lift. "I just came to talk with my best mate. Not my fault that you left your wards open."

"I didn't," he seethed over Hermione's shoulder, "You just weaseled your way past them."

Pansy shrugged. "Garden gnome, garden troll. What's the difference? Clearly. I'm interrupting something. Which I would know if you ever spoke to me anymore. And I came here to speak to you about an urgent matter, but you're evidently too busy. Don't worry. I'll leave. Have fun! And don't forget to use a contraception charm!" she wished sarcastically before sweeping back onto the lift and riding it back out of the building.

She was glad that Draco and Hermione were seeing one another, considering she had the sneaking suspicion that the blond had been interested in the famous witch for several years now. The only problem was that she still had her Ron Weasley dilemma and she really felt like owling the gangly red head at the moment. Which was insane; they had spent the entire night and day together. Pansy sighed and let herself out of the building, waving to the security witch on her way. She had really been looking forward to getting drunk.

Back in Draco's office, Hermione muttered into Draco's neck, "It figures that the day I decide to forgo the rules we get walked in on."

Draco rubbed circles on her back soothingly. "Don't worry, Pansy won't care or tell anyone."

This reassured Hermione somewhat and she removed her head from his neck. She noted that Draco had red patches on his cheeks, from embarrassment or their current position, she was unsure. "Why does Pansy know how to get past your wards?" Hermione questioned. She saw Draco's eyes flicker down at her exposed bra. Hermione hastily began to re-button her blouse, no longer feeling as brazen as she had mere seconds ago.

Draco's eyes returned to hers. "She insisted."

Hermione chuckled, imagining that conversation (see: argument). "I'm surprised you gave in."

"It's easier to oblige Pansy than argue, plus she threatened to stop ordering the chocolate cake, and watched me unward my place one night when I was pissed."

Hermione smiled and pulled herself off of Draco's lap. She walked around his desk to get her coat. "I should get going."

Draco nodded and stood. "I hope that you had fun today, Hermione."

Hermione wrapped her scarf around her neck. "I did," she smiled broadly.

Draco sauntered over to her and took her hand. "When's our next date?"

"When are you free?"

"I have the convenience of owning my own business, so I can be free whenever you would like." Draco pulled her close to him and laid a kiss on Hermione's cheek. The fact that he would clear his schedule for her had the happy kaleidoscope of butterflies batting their wings in her stomach.

"Tuesday night?"

"Lovely," Draco replied, placing a kiss on her chin. "What time?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that. I need to check something first."

"You're not going to tell me where we're going?"

"You never tell me."

"Because it adds to my element of mystery, Granger. You on the other hand are not mysterious."

"I can totally be mysterious!"

"The only thing that remains a mystery to me is whether or not you'll let me touch your delectable body." He said this into her ear, their bodies pressed together once again.

Hermione held back a groan. She very much wanted to tell him that there was no mystery, that she wanted him to touch her, that she wanted to have her way with him in his bed, in his shower, on his desk, on his desk chair, in his lab…However much she wanted Draco for his body, she still felt as if she needed to know more about him before they went any further in their relationship. She was afraid that once they had sex they would realise that they had nothing in common but a mutual desire for one another. She feared this would result in their eventual separation, which was not an option for her at that point in time. Her body's desire to be with him, as well as her heart's, was much stronger than she realised. She also had the tiniest fear that he would grow bored of her once he had 'gotten what he wanted'. Hermione didn't think that Draco was that kind of guy, but that's what their celibacy was going to prove right or wrong.

So Hermione stepped out of his arms and said teasingly, "I told you that I can be mysterious." She picked her mittens up off the ground and walked over to the lift. "Let me up, will you?" she called over his shoulder.

Draco shook his head slowly at her, but obligingly summoned the lift. They stared at one another heatedly while it descended. The shiny brass doors dinged open.

"Thanks for a great day, Draco," Hermione thanked him genuinely.

"You're free next Saturday afternoon?" he questioned, holding the lift doors open.

"I can be."

"Good. I was thinking that we could make a thing of this, going to the library together…" Draco said slowly, and if Hermione was correct, a little nervously.

"That sounds lovely. We'll have to explore different libraries though."

"I've already got one picked out for next week." Draco leaned toward her and pressed a kiss to her lips before gently pushing her onto the lift. "I'll see you Tuesday, Granger."

"Bye Draco," she replied.

The doors slid closed and Hermione rested her head against the metal wall of the lift. She sighed as she realised yet again that she was in way over her head with Draco Malfoy.

**A/N: As always t****hanks for the reviews and help with my flagrant typos :D**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Pillow Talk

Hermione and Draco had gone on seven dates. And she did plan three of them. They went to the movies together and snuggled as much as possible in the boxy and limiting theatre seats. Impressively, most of the movie was seen by the couple, in fact the only time that they were too distracted was when Hermione had to leave to go pee and Draco had followed her out and they had argued over what snacks to get for the remainder of the film (they decided on nachos). They had visited Hermione's favourite bookstore and gone out for lunch afterward. And they went out for lunch one work day. All of their dates had been in Muggle London so that they could avoid the gaze of the wizarding public. Draco had claimed the seventh date one Saturday by bringing her to another library, as promised,—that really tested her willpower (she did cave, several times, and a not so pleasant young librarian had scolded them for their PDA, but considering the fact that it was in the religion section no one was in sight for ten aisles, so the librarian was over-reacting just a tad). All of their dates were also positively fantastic; Draco was engaging, he more or less answered her questions, she told him more about herself, the bickered on end, and they snogged something fierce. Hermione was becoming more comfortable around Draco, meaning that she blushed less and could much more successfully string together a sentence. She hated the way the rich git always rendered her incapable of retaining her ability to speak. She was also less afraid of showing that she cared about him; she would ask him how his day was, they would hold hands for no reason other than wanting to be touching one another, share cared when he stubbed his toe on a bookshelf in the library (and even offered to perform a spell to make it feel better, very illegally seeing as they were in Muggle London).

They had not progressed any further sexually in their relationship, and to be honest Hermione was feeling a little frustrated, sexually. She knew that Draco was as well, but he never said anything about it, for which she was grateful. Her crusade to know more about him had thus far succeeded greatly. She knew that his favourite colour was a deep blue, he enjoyed Muggle television, but hated their transit. Draco loved it when she tickled the nape of his neck with her fingers when they kissed. He only ever drank black teas and he rarely added anything to them. The only time that he had coffee was if he couldn't sleep the night before because of night mares, in which case he had two sugars and two creams. He didn't have nightmares often, he said because of he was an occlumens, which allowed him to compartmentalise the parts of his past that he didn't want to remember. Hermione was jealous of this, seeing as she often took dreamless sleep draughts due to her own nightmares. He had sold the Manor shortly after returning from his year of community service in Muggle London because he couldn't stand the memories. She learned that Draco was still a massive arse, despite his improved morality. She still didn't know much about his Muggle London experience and they hadn't really discussed the war. These were two things that she felt needed to be done before she could consider progressing further into their relationship. Which is why their fifth date together found them in Hermione's flat (big news seeing as she rarely invited anyone to her sanctuary) chatting amicably over the tele. Crookshanks, who had taken an immediate and odd liking to Draco, sat by their feet, purring loudly, sound asleep.

"Are Pansy and Ron still seeing one another?" Hermione asked curiously. "I asked Ron the other day and he not so cleverly avoided my questions."

"They're still shagging, yes. I wouldn't necessarily say that they're 'seeing one another' because all that they do is shag…" he shrugged. "Pansy has also been avoiding answering most of my questions. I bet that she likes him or something and being Pansy has no idea what to do about it."

Hermione chuckled. "That's an image. I'll have to grill Ron the next time I see him."

"Hermione?"

"Draco," she responded teasingly.

"You know that I like you, right?" He asked boldly, looking deep into her eyes.

"I would hope so, seeing as we are seeing each other. And I mean, I've snogged you at least fifty times by now, so it may be a little awkward if you didn't."

"And unlike Pansy, I am going to do something about it," he continued, smiling ever so slightly. He took her hand in his.

"Meaning?" she asked, her heart speeding up ever so slightly.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Hermione smiled broadly. "Only if you'll be my boyfriend."

"Deal."

Hermione leaned in to seal the deal with a kiss, but pulled back quickly, remembering her promise to herself. "Wait."

"For Merlin's sake, Granger," Draco grumbled.

"I think that before we make anything official we need to have a conversation…"

"About the War?" he supplied resignedly at the same time that she said:

"About—er—yes, exactly."

Draco tensed, but nodded. "I figured this discussion was coming sooner or later. I'd just rather avoid it, Hermione, because I've just managed to make you fancy me."

"Draco, in case you didn't notice, I fancied you back in school when you were a Death Eater. Probably not the best decision on my part…" she mused. "I know the War is painful to discuss, we all have our battle wounds that we'll carry with us forever. But I think that we need to talk about it. Maybe not everything, but, for instance you always roll your sleeves down whenever I enter the room. How can we…be intimate," Draco smirked at her word choice, "when you can't even show me your arm?"

"I usually forget that I have my Dark Mark, most of the time. But whenever you walk into the room…it all comes rushing back. All the guilt. The fear. All the opportunities that you gave me, and all the times that I said no. Then it reminds me of your screams when…" he trailed off, staring off into space blankly.

Hermione's hand tightened around his. "You need to know that I understand why you made the decisions that you did. And when I was being tortured you couldn't have done anything without being killed."

Draco didn't respond and still had that faraway look. The TV played obnoxiously in the background and Hermione realised that she ought to have turned it off before starting this serious conversation.

"Did you hear me, Draco? You couldn't have done anything," Hermione repeated firmly.

Draco nodded slowly.

"I was wondering though…when we were brought to the Manor why didn't you tell them who Harry was right away? Or who Ron was…or me."

Draco smiled slightly. "Isn't it obvious? The three of you were the only hope of stopping him…and of course, I was terrified what they would do to you, a Muggleborn, at the headquarters for all things anti-Muggle. I may have made my decision to stay with my family and on the wrong side of the War, but every second that you were in my house all I could think of was all the hours that we spent together in the study room. Keeping silent about your identity was the only thing I knew how to do without getting myself killed. Not that my silence helped anyone."

"It bought us time at least," Hermione said in a strained voice, trying to block out the memory of her time at his childhood home.

"I just hate it, the Mark. I hate that it will always be on my arm as a reminder of my weakness."

"Or, rather, a reminder of your strength; you survived, Voldemort didn't."

"I wasn't strong, Hermione. I was an idiot, a lucky idiot. I took the Mark thinking that I could redeem my family. Didn't turn out working so well…And then you happened…and I...well you heard my speech a few weeks ago. But it didn't matter, once Dumbledore was dead I realised that I couldn't go back, so I tried even harder to climb the ranks, even if I hated myself for it. Then of course you lot saved me during the Final Battle twice, hence me being lucky. I was so scared when Goyle started that fire," he admitted quietly. "Then Weasley said that you were his girlfriend and you looked so happy. I had been looking for you to see if you were still alive…"

"You were?"

"I was, because I figured that if I was going to die, I might as well tell you how I felt or die trying."

"And how did you feel?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know how I felt. How I feel. Why else did I tolerate your presence in my study room? Or hold your hand like a bloody Hufflepuff?"

"It is not _your_ study room. It's the castle's. And don't belittle Hufflepuffs."

"I liked you, Hermione. I _like_ you. It was unbearable to have to see you like that. It was unbearable caring about you."

"When you say it like that…"

"Because of my family—" he added on quickly.

"I'm just joking. It wasn't that easy on me either. Not only did I like you and Ron, you were my sworn enemy and supposedly hated my guts. Not to mention you weren't the nicest person to me for my entire school career," she teased lightly.

Draco returned his gaze to hers and said firmly, "I'm sorry. For what I did to you when I was still a major idiot, for what I said. I'm sorry for not going with you when I had the chance. I'm sorry, Hermione. I regret it every day…"

"I know. And I know how hard you try to make up for your past. It's really, quite admirable."

Draco cleared his throat. "Can we stop talking about the past now and snog?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, but you have to agree that you'll tell me more about your year amongst the Muggles, and soon."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, and brought their faces together in a soft kiss.

At his gentle contact Hermione felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. The kiss was gentle, but also searing and had Hermione's heart pounding. They stayed like that, in each other's arms kissing gently for most of the evening. They finally separated because Hermione had to pee. When she returned to her living room a few minutes later, Draco was perusing one of her bookshelves. His long pale fingers were lingering on _The Book Thief_.

She smiled at him and snuck up behind him, wrapping her hands around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder. After their heart to heart and new status as an official couple, Hermione finally felt that she knew Draco a lot better, especially after the fact that she had already been mostly naked with him—keeping her pants on was a serious problem when in his presence.

"Then don't," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Would you like to…maybe…"

"Yes," he answered.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

Draco turned around and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I have a pretty good idea," he said in a dark voice.

"What if I was going to ask if you wanted to go rob Gringotts, or marry a troll?"

"I'm up for Gringotts, but the troll is a definite no."

Hermione chuckled and bit her lip. "So you want to stay the night?"

"I've wanted to stay the night since sixth year."

Hermione smiled. "Did you want a drink first or something?" she asked, suddenly quite nervous; what if she was terrible in bed, it had been a dry spell, what if it was like her last one night stand, or heaven forbid, like 's head descended to her neck and kissed her there leisurely. Her worries were quickly silenced by her rising desire.

"Only if you do," he responded evenly.

"I think…I'm good," she breathed shakily.

Draco's tongue snaked out and licked her earlobe. "Where's your bedroom?" he whispered into her ear.

Hermione stepped out of his arms and, in a lust-induced daze, led him to her modest bedroom. She glanced at her queen sized bed with plain cotton sheets. "Maybe we should have gone to your room for this…"

"Trust me, your room is great," he said without even giving it more than a glance. Draco moved to stand in front of her and brought his hands to the bottom of Hermione's shirt. "Where are we drawing the line tonight?" he questioned, his fingers slowly slipping under her shirt.

"We aren't," she replied brazenly. "We need to christen our new relationship after all," she added quickly.

This had Draco's hands tensing on her hips. "I'm not sure what christen means, probably one of your Muggle things, but if I understand correctly you want to have sex with me."

Hermione flushed at his straightforwardness. "Yes. I do. Now, are we just going to stand here all night or are you going to take off my clothes?"

"If you insist, dear," he replied sarcastically.

Draco's hands grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up her body, and he took his sweet time about it. Draco pulled her blouse off and tossed it over his shoulder. He allowed his hands to travel from her shoulders down to her hips where they stayed. Draco looked down at Hermione's flushed face and brought their lips together in such a slow sweet kiss that made Hermione a little confused. She had been expecting their first time together to be, well, fast, in a sort of aggressive and extremely hot kind of way; a large part of their relationship being exactly that. And there he was, kissing her as if she were gentlest object in the world. Not that Hermione didn't enjoy it; she was still very much turned on, she just also had a flurry of butterflies beating furiously in her stomach.

That being said, she wanted action, had waited three weeks for it (more like seven years, but hey, who's counting (they both were)). So she pulled him closer and tried to turn the kiss to bruising. Rather unsuccessfully, considering that Draco just pulled away.

"There's no need to rush, Hermione, we have all night," he promised.

That had her flushing deeply and heat rushing between her legs. "Sorry."

"No need to apologise. We can have a quick, rough shag tomorrow morning before you have to leave for your weekly gathering with the Weasley clan & co. After a nice shower together, of course."

"That sounds…" she weakly trailed off as his fingers ghosted across her stomach.

"Like a plan?" he asked before anchoring his lips to her throat.

"Yes," she groaned.

Draco licked her collarbone and pulled back to give her the once over. He noticed her deep blue bra that she had specifically chosen that morning and licked his lips. "You planned this before I even got here, didn't you?"

Hermione smirked.

"And what if I didn't want to stay the night?"

Hermione pulled his body flush against hers, still smirking. "Wasn't even a thought that crossed my mind."

Draco kissed her again lightly. "I took off your shirt, you should take off mine," he suggested in his silky voice.

Hermione smiled slowly and grabbed the edges of his long-sleeve grey shirt. She trailed her hands along his sides as she pulled it up and off his body. She mirrored his earlier movements and threw it over her shoulder. Hermione allowed her hands to run over the smooth plains of his stomach. Draco pushed her bra straps off of her shoulders one at a time and pulled her into a hug. His tongue invaded her mouth and her hands ran up and down his back as if searching for something. It wasn't until Draco pulled away to pull her bra completely off and cup her naked breasts that she realised he had unhooked her bra while they were snogging.

Hermione forgot to be self-conscious with his gaze trained on her, probably due to the fact that his thumbs were brushing across her nipples teasingly, bringing them to a hard point in mere seconds. Hermione was embarrassingly wet by this point, and they had hardly done anything.

As if reading her thoughts, but more likely noticing the blush on her cheeks, Draco said, "Don't be embarrassed, you're beautiful."

This comment made Hermione far more happy than she would say. Draco removed his hands from her chest and lowered them to her jeans. He undid the button and pulled down the zipper. His hand lingered over her for a moment and Hermione thought that he was going to touch her over her lacy blue knickers, couldn't wait for it, actually. But he didn't. Instead he crouched in front of her and his fingers looped through her belt buckles to tug her pants off. Draco glanced up at her to see her dilated eyes. He smirked and laid a kiss just above her pantie line, then a little higher. He dotted around her belly button with several slow, deliberate, wet kisses, making her shiver. He trailed slowly up her body until he landed on her left breast. He licked it once from that awkward underboob area to her nipple where he planted a kiss. He continued up her neck where he proceeded to give her a hickey. To say that Hermione was breathing quite heavily by this point would be an understatement.

Draco pulled away and said in a husky voice, "Your turn."

Hermione snapped out of her stupor and realised that he meant that she needed to pull off his pants. She highly doubted that she would be nearly as sexy as he was, but she figured she might as well try, since the seemingly simple action of removing someone's pants had made her beyond ready for him.

Hermione planted a kiss on his neck, his lips, and his nipple before dropping to her knees. She was pleased to note that he was already hard. Hermione trailed her hand up his length slowly over his expensive slacks. She then undid the button and pulled down the zipper. She pushed them off of his slender hips and let them fall to the ground. Hermione pushed on his legs slightly, indicating that he should step out of them. Once he had she trailed her hands up both of his legs, stopping one of them on his hips, the other resting on the bulge in his pants. Hermione glanced up at him to see that his face was surprisingly pink and that he was breathing raggedly. She laid a kiss right above his grey briefs and immediately felt herself being tugged up to be pushed into a fierce kiss. Hermione's hand, however, stayed very much on his hard length and she began rubbing it slowly.

Draco pulled back from the kiss after a few of her tentative strokes. "Hermione," he groaned, his head now resting on her forehand as she continued to touch him over his clothes. "Where's your wand?"

"Hmm? In the living room," she replied, her hand gripping him through his purple briefs.

"We need to do the…" Draco trailed off, groaning.

"The what?" she asked, a little amused, a little more turned on, but mostly enjoying him as the flustered one for once.

"Contraception…charm…" he managed to say.

"Do you want me to go now, because you seem to be enjoying yourself…" she teased.

"Merlin, woman, the night'll be over before it's even begun at this rate." Draco pushed her away gently. "I'll get my wand," he said and quickly left her bedroom.

Hermione stood still for a moment, unsure what she should do now that he was gone. Should she arrange herself on the bed in some sexy position, should she strip completely? Was he expecting her to follow him? He probably was. She decided to meet him in the living room just as he sauntered back into the bedroom, wand in hand. He shut the bedroom door behind him, which was probably a good thing because if her cat wondered in it might be awkward.

"Do you mind if I…?" he asked, gesturing toward her lower abdomen.

"Go ahead."

Draco waved his wand just as Madam Pomfrey had taught him all those years ago in front of Hermione's stomach. He walked to her bedside table and set it down there before strutting back to her, far too cockily.

"Sorry to ruin the mood," he apologised, trailing his hands up and down her sides.

"Don't worry, I prefer not getting pregnant or one of the STIs that you picked up from all those Muggles that you had sex with," she teased.

Draco looked offended. "I do not have an STI."

Hermione brought his head close to hers. "I know," she whispered, "Now how about you take off my knickers, I take off your briefs and we get this show on the road?"

Draco's eyes flickered. "Patience is a virtue, I'm told," he said, referencing their email correspondence.

"Patience? I've never heard of it, must be one of those pureblood things," she responded in kind, and planted her lips on his.

Her hands began tugging his briefs off, but she had to fully separate her body from his and get down on her knees to successfully get them off of his body. She eyed his penis; it was slightly larger than average (according to the books that she had read depicting the average penis size), and uncircumcised, like most wizards (according to the same book). Hermione kissed the head, causing Draco's breath to hitch loudly. She stood up and looked at him expectantly.

"Your turn."

Instead of dropping to his knees immediately, Draco began kissing her again. While they were kissing he steered them toward the bed, stopping when the backs of Hermione's thighs came in contact with it. He then sank to his knees and hooked his fingers on either side of her panties. Hermione felt momentarily self-conscious when she realised how wet her knickers were. She eyed Draco, who had clearly noticed and was smiling broadly. This reassured her and she began to relax again. He slowly dragged them down her legs and waited for her to step out of them before throwing them onto the growing pile of clothes. Draco brought his mouth up to her neatly trimmed mound and kissed her. Hermione groaned. She expected him to stand back up, as she had done, but instead he pushed her backward so that she tumbled onto the bed. Hermione lifted herself up onto her elbows to see Draco spread her legs open and drop his head between them.

Draco licked up the length of her slit languidly several times which, obviously, had Hermione groaning like a fool. He pulled away and she huffed in disappointment. Then he kissed her inner thigh wetly. He kissed her core, then her other thigh, and pulled away again. Hermione realised, a little surprised, that she was playing with her breasts as he worked his magic. He gave her another one of those long licks and once again pulled away. Hermione panted and internally wished that he would stop teasing her. Draco's tongue, as if hearing her desire, began circling her clit. How he was able to find it so easily, Hermione was unsure, because it took Ron an entire—

Draco's tongue started tickling her clit directly, all forms of teasing gone, making her completely forget her train of thought. As soon as this happened, Hermione lost all self-control and shoved a hand into his hair, holding him firmly between her dark thighs. She was silently praying 'don't stop', or at least she thought that it was silent until she heard herself begging him quite loudly. Draco laughed, but continued his attentions. His laugh vibrated through her body and Hermione groaned again. She really wasn't used to being so vocal in bed, but couldn't find the time to be distracted by it as Draco's tongue continued to work her clit up and down then from side to side. Hermione's whole body was flushed and her lower lips began clenching in preparation for her orgasm. One of Draco's hands held her lower body against the bed so that he could continue his ministrations while the other kept her legs spread wide for him. The hand that wasn't holding Draco in place was clenched around her duvet. Draco took her clit into his mouth and began sucking on it insistently.

This had Hermione's body coursing with magic and desire as her orgasm built until finally—Draco wriggled his tongue against her clit while continuing to suck on it—she came undone, her body tensing as she saw stars explode behind her eyes and she moaned loudly. Her hips starting jerking against his face, her hand still holding him firmly in place, as Draco lapped up her cum languorously. When Hermione finally calmed down and loosened her death grip on his hair, Draco kissed her swollen clit and pulled his head from between her thighs.

She watched him lick his lips. She felt so deliciously warm all over and wanted nothing more than to make him feel the same way, but he snaked his way up her body and rested his hips against hers, so that she could feel him poking against her entrance. It was almost as if he was waiting for her permission.

"Let me touch you first," she insisted, all shyness gone (probably around the same time that she had realised that she had begged him not to stop).

"I'd love to, Hermione, but considering you said you want to shag me, I don't think that'll happen if your hot little hands come any closer," he all but grunted.

Hermione smiled, very content with the effect that she had on him. "We'll have to work on your stamina."

"I usually last longer, but you're too hot for your own good," he explained gruffly.

Hermione had already moved on, however, and bucked her hips up to his so that he slid into her rapidly. Draco moaned and dropped his head into the crook of her neck as he stretched her. Hermione sighed happily and didn't stop her thrust until he was entirely anchored in her heat. Draco's body was tense and they stayed unmoving for several heated seconds. Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of rightness in that moment.

"Give me a bloody warning before you do that," he grumbled into her ear, ruining the moment.

Hermione turned her head to his and bit his ear. "Make me."

Draco groaned and flexed his hips. He pulled out of her and pushed back in, starting up an unexpectedly quick rhythm, considering his earlier comments about all the time in the world or some other bullocks. One of Hermione's hands came to rest between his shoulder blades, the other on his lower back so that she could feel the contraction of his muscles. Draco's chest was just slightly above her own so that her nipples brushed against him with every thrust, making her tingle ever so slightly. Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips and bit his ear again.

"Faster," she ordered, feeling heat pool in her lower stomach for the second time that evening.

Draco obliged her and the lovely sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the air. Hermione tilted her hips and groaned loudly as she felt him brush against something inside of her. Draco's hand came down to her hips and kept them in that position so that he could slide against her spot again.

"Gods…Draco…yes…_there_…" she moaned.

Draco, for his part, was panting loudly. He lifted himself slightly higher above her so that his hand could snake between them and rub her clit.

"I'm…" she whimpered as he played with her, his hips pistoning away.

"Me too," he replied hoarsely.

Hermione opened her eyes to look into his. Her hands were wrapped around his arms, feeling them tense. Draco tilted her hips slightly causing her to clench around his length. And that was it, he tumbled over the edge, his hips shuddering against hers. Watching him come undone threw her over the edge as well and instead of moaning so loudly her neighbours probably heard like the last time (except that would have been impossible because she had permanently sound-proofed her flat), she whimpered quietly, overwhelmed by the sensation of Draco still moving inside of her, his finger working her clit, and his lips on her neck.

Hermione pulled him into a kiss as they both came back down to earth. It wasn't until Draco softened inside of her that he finally pulled out of her. He reached for his wand, scourigified them, pulled them under the covers and spooned her, a hand wrapped snugly around her waist. His head was shoved into her much more crazy than usual hair. They laid in silence for a long time. Hermione thought that he had fallen asleep.

She snuggled back into him and felt his heart beating against her naked back. She was so content in that moment that she whispered, "Perfect," under her breath.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," Hermione squeaked.

"Were you commenting on my superior sexual prowess, Hermione?" She didn't respond. "Because that was by far the best sex I've ever had the luck to experience."

Hermione flushed happily and brought their hands together. "You weren't too bad yourself."

She could almost feel his eye roll. "Just say it, Granger, I'm a sex god."

Hermione laughed. "You hardly need a bigger ego. Also, calling you a sex god is a just a wee pretentious."

"That wasn't a denial."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yet again, not a denial. Admit it," he insisted, his arm tightening around her waist.

"Never."

"I could hear you thinking it any—" Draco cut himself off.

Hermione tensed. "You can hear me thinking?"

"I didn't say—"

She sat up, letting go of his hand and facing him. "Are you using legimency on me?" she asked seriously.

Draco sat up too, looking put off. "I would never do that without your permission, Hermione," he replied seriously.

"Then how…?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know…just sometimes I can hear your thoughts. It's sort of like legimency, but it also isn't. I can't control when I hear them, or what I hear. Sometimes it's a complete thought, other times it's a feeling."

"That's why you always make odd comments whenever I think something, but don't say it, because you know what I'm thinking…Does it happen with anyone else?"

Draco shook his head 'no'. "Just you. It mostly happens whenever you're turned on," he added smugly.

Hermione flushed deeply, but recalled when he went down on her earlier and seemed to be answering her every unspoken desire. "No wonder you're so good in bed! You're cheating."

Draco grinned triumphantly. "You finally admit it."

Hermione scowled upon realising her slip of the tongue. "You little…"

"Shh, Granger," he cooed before planting a kiss on her lips. He pulled her back down to the bed and spooned her again. "Go to sleep, I'll wake you up when I'm ready for round two."

"Round two?" she questioned incredulously; from her personal experience and book knowledge she knew that this was fairly rare. In fact she had only encountered it that one time during her fantastic one night stand.

"Yes, darling, round two."

Hermione tried to fall asleep after that, but for some reason she was not able to. She could tell by Draco's breathing that he was still awake as well, and also by the gentle circles his fingers were tracing on her stomach.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Are you reading my thoughts?"

"Hearing them, not reading them, and yes."

"Wait…" Hermione's thoughts were racing with all that this 'hearing' thoughts business could mean. "Were you jealous?"

"Of what?"

"Ron."

Draco halted his lazy circles momentarily. "No," he replied evenly, and started them up again.

Hermione smirked, seeing straight through his façade. "You were. I bet you hate that, being jealous of Ron."

"I'm not jealous of him."

"You are too."

"For Merlin's sake—"

Hermione rolled over so that she could look into his eyes. "Don't worry, the only reason I was thinking of him while you were…" Hermione paused, feeling as if 'going down on me' or 'eating me out' was too crass to say.

"It's not too crass."

"It's going to take a while to get used to that…anyway, while you were demonstrating the superior skills of your tongue, shall we say, I thought of the fact that it took Ron a long time to locate my…" she cleared her throat.

Draco's finger snaked down her body and landed on her clit with ease. "Clit?" he asked ruefully.

Hermione groaned and nodded. "Before we go for round two," she huffed as his finger tickled her gently, "Can I ask you something?"

Draco moved his hand up to her belly button. "Yes."

"Why are you jealous of my office? It's been bothering me forever. My office is tiny and unimpressive compared to yours. Not to mention yours has a kitchen and a potions lab, and so many books…" she may have been salivating.

"My office also doubles as my living room and kitchen, so it has to have those things. Also you're basically salivating, Granger."

Hermione denied anything of the such. "Salivating! Please. And even if I were, it would be totally understandable because you have a nice office."

"I'm jealous of yours because, despite its size, lack of good décor and design flaws," this earned him a smack on the arm, "it's in the Ministry."

"And you're jealous because…" then it hit her, "They wouldn't hire you?"

Draco avoided her eye contact. "Malfoy wasn't necessarily the most trusted name, especially straight after the War."

Hermione sat up indignantly. "Where did you apply? The Auror department? I'm going to go have a word with Kingsley right now! This is exactly why we need this workshop series!"

Draco chuckled at her enthusiasm and pushed her back into a laying position. "Your need to defend me, although adorable, has come a little late, I'm content with my own business. It has several perks that working for the Ministry doesn't, mainly not having to see a certain bespectacled git every day for the next fifty years, not to mention your freckled ex-boyfriend."

Hermione smacked his arm again. "Don't be rude."

"Stop hitting me," he countered. "The point being, I wanted very much to work there, but when they refused my application I moved on to bigger and decidedly better things. The only downfall being that I can't just walk down a hallway when I'm at work to harass you or have my way with you, and of course having to be escorted around the Ministry at all times. Speaking of, did you get your hands on those photographs that Weasley took, I need to destroy them."

"No," she lied poorly.

"You're lying."

"Stop reading my thoughts."

"It's not reading, it's listening, and I'm not; you're shit at lying."

Hermione caved and admitted, "You look very cute in them." Hermione laughed at the memory of his sullen face.

"Where are they, Granger?" Draco rolled so that he was on top of her.

Hermione rolled them over again so that she was straddling his hips. "I'll never tell."

The photos were quickly forgotten as Hermione lived up to her previous desire to touch him before sliding onto his warm length and riding him into the wee hours of the morning. They cuddled again afterward, this time both of them falling into a deep sleep.

-x-

Hermione was having a very indecent dream that consisted of very little clothes and a certain blond head between her legs. She knew it was a dream because there was no way that he was so skilled at pleasuring a woman. That is until he inserted a finger into her, curling it slowly, causing her to awake mid moan.

Hermione's head was thrown back in pleasure as Draco rubbed against her g-spot and flicker her clit with his tongue. His ministrations had her babbling incoherently into her pillow shortly afterward, her whole body trembling in pleasure. Draco kissed his way up her torso, between her breasts and latched onto her neck. He pulled away once her breathing had slowed down and rested his head on her breasts, his leg hitched around her waist, and his hot, hard, length pressed against her casually.

"Morning girlfriend," he trilled.

Hermione brought a hand up to his hair and played with it slowly. "Thanks for the wake-up call."

"Anytime, babe."

"Don't make promises that you can't keep."

"I very much intend on keeping this promise, as long as you'll let me."

"You know, you're the only one who's ever—er—gone down on me."

Draco lifted his head from her chest to stare at her in disbelief. "Impossible."

"This one bloke tried once," Hermione got a faraway look, remembering that one night stand fondly, "but it was back when I was still fairly uncomfortable with my body, so I didn't let him."

"First of all, you should never be uncomfortable with your body. You're gorgeous. Even when I hated you for your blood status I knew what you were hiding under that frumpy Gryffindor uniform. And not only are you beautiful in looks, but you have a beautiful soul and brain," he said sternly, causing Hermione's stomach to swoop. "Second of all, I cannot believe that the supposed love of your life never ate you out. That's almost sacrilegious."

Hermione smiled softly at his indignation. "I told you, Ron and I didn't have good chemistry, we didn't even want to touch each other." Draco looked at her in horror. "And—er—thanks, for the compliments…I'm much more confident now," she assured him.

"Well don't worry," he kissed her nipple lightly, "I want to touch you."

Hermione flushed in excitement at this declaration, feeling oddly accomplished. "I should hope so, you are my boyfriend, after all."

Draco rested his soft hair back onto her breasts. "Hold on, how many people have you had sex with, Granger?"

"Five. Ron, disastrous; three one night stands, one terrible, one mediocre, and the last surprisingly good, but not in that order. And, obviously, you."

"You've had three one night stands?" he asked incredulously. "_You_?"

"No need to act all surprised. I'm a busy woman who has certain desires and I've been essentially single since Ron. I really ought to have had more."

"Well no need for that, you've got a more than willing boyfriend now."

"Yeah, where were you five years ago when I was over Ron and ready to explore my sexuality?"

"Watching you from the sidelines," he confessed quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

"Draco, have you been pining after me in secret for years?" she asked teasingly.

However, he didn't respond, making Hermione realise that he had in fact been doing that exact thing.

"That explains the whole no women staying over at your place then," she mumbled.

Hermione tried not to be overwhelmed by the realisation that Draco harboured some very intense feelings for her for quite a long time now. She enjoyed his company for some odd reason, loved the way he made her feel both in and out of bed, but she was in no way prepared to admit anything beyond liking him to herself, let alone to him.

Draco locked eyes with her again. "I don't want to overwhelm you, or seem like a creepy stalker—"

"Draco Malfoy did you stalk me?" she demanded, very much alarmed.

"No! That's what I'm saying. I didn't follow you, but I was always aware of you, of your presence. Hermione, I…care about you…a lot. And it's okay if you don't feel the same way, yet. But you had to have known, I already told you that I liked you back in school, and I've only dated Astoria between then and now…"

"How many people have you had sex with?" she questioned.

Draco returned his head to her chest so that he didn't have to look her in the eyes. "A few."

"I want to know, about Muggle London."

"There were only two muggle women."

"And how many witches? Because if _Witch Weekly_ has anything to say about it, you are a very eligible bachelor."

"Well, obviously Astoria."

"And…?" she probed. "I'm not going to judge you, Draco. I'm just curious, if you have been pining after me all the years like some star-crossed lover…who did you shack up with to take your mind off of me?" she teased, genuinely curious.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do; they talk to each other about their past relationships."

Draco sighed against her breast, causing her nipple to pucker. "There were no other witches."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "I've had sex with more people than you?!"

"No need to gloat, Granger," he grumbled.

"Does that mean that you've been celibate for four or so years?"

"Do you really think I could last four years without sex?"

Hermione shrugged. Her eyes widened dramatically again. "Do you have a…fuck buddy?" she whispered.

Draco chuckled at her tone, but didn't deny it. "And if I did?"

"She was Muggle?"

"She was," he confirmed.

"Past tense?"

"Obviously, Granger, I'm dating you, remember?"

"Did you work with her?"

"No, she was a co-worker's friend. You should never date someone that you work with."

"Did you…think of me while you two…"

Draco flexed his hips against hers, showing that he was still raring to go. "What do you think?"

Hermione smiled proudly. Why she was proud that Draco imagined her while having sex with some nameless Muggle, she wasn't entirely sure. As she tried to figure this out Draco latched onto her breast and began sucking on it fervently. She quickly forgot what she had been thinking about as his hips rocked against hers gently.

"Why don't you show me to your bathroom? I think we could both use a shower," Draco suggested. "And I know this handy spell that makes water un-slippery."

Hermione clambered off of the bed happily. "Right this way," she smiled.

She then proceeded to give him a blow job in her shower stall. Draco didn't let her mouth bob on him for long before he turned her around and showed her the type of sex that she had been expecting to have the night before. Hermione left the shower with a bruise on her hip from his grip there. He had offered to heal it, apologising profusely, but she found that she liked it there, as a reminder of him. She did however spell it so that it wouldn't hurt.

Draco kissed her and wished her a good day and good luck breaking the news to her friends that they were officially together. She invited him to come with her, saying that it wouldn't be awkward, but Draco, knowing very well that it would be very awkward, said that he had to go into work to take care of some things that he hadn't gotten done over the week. Hermione knew that he was avoiding the confrontation, but didn't blame him. She highly doubted Draco, Ron, and Harry would be able to do anything more than tolerate one another. She figured she ought not to push it too much. Not that her best friends shouldn't have been expecting an announcement of their relationship status; Hermione hadn't hidden the fact that they were going on many dates together, and she also forgot to glamour her neck a few times, leaving several prominent hickeys boldly on display purely by mistake (she had to get that spell from Ginny).

Hermione squared her shoulders and reminded herself that she was allowed to date whomever she liked, and that Draco was far too skilled with his tongue to let that opportunity pass by. With great trepidation she apparated to tell her friends of the new happy couple.

-x-

Ron had Pansy bent over her living room armchair, pounding into her with quick hard thrusts. She was touching herself urgently with one hand and bracing herself on the sofa with the other. Ron was muttering, "Almost there," as Pansy urged him to move "Faster!" In a few more hurried thrusts Pansy clenched around Ron's thick length, moaning in pleasure. This sent Ron over the edge in a similar frenzy of jerky movements and groans.

Ron pulled out shortly after, turned Pansy around, and went to kiss her. She, however, turned her head so that his kiss landed on her cheek. Ron tried and failed to hide the hurt he felt. He stepped away angrily.

"What is this, Pansy?" he demanded.

Pansy shrugged, feeling exposed in front of him for the first time since they'd started shagging. "I thought we knew what this was."

"Really? Because I'm a little confused. One second we're shagging each other's brains out, the next we're hanging out like a couple going on these quasi dates. Then the next day I see you, you don't let me kiss you. And then the next thing I know, we're shagging again. Please, tell me. What's going on?"

Pansy had been so hoping that they could avoid this conversation. That she would have ended it before it even got near this conversation. She had really meant to end it after the first time that they shagged. She really had. But there they were, facing off, in the nude. Ron looked decidedly hot with his face all red, and naked in front of her.

"Well?" he pressed at her silence.

"I…uhm…"

"Because, you know what? I actually look forward to spending time with you beyond being buried inside you, which is actually pretty fantastic in itself… That's beside the point; that time we went to those churches was great, wasn't it? And when you brought me as your date to that wedding that you planned, I think we had a pretty good time, no? I like spending time with you Pansy. I don't want to just shag you."

Pansy stared at him in shock. Not many men would say that to her. In fact, none had.

"Did you know that Hermione's dating Malfoy? As in they're officially seeing one another."

Pansy didn't. She really needed to catch up with Draco, it felt like she hadn't spoken to him in ages, and if Ron was more up to date on gossip than she was, there was clearly a problem.

"Yeah, they're dating. Probably shagging too, judging by the state of her hair this afternoon," he said absentmindedly. "Are you, what, embarrassed of me? Because I'm not rich like most purebloods? Because I was on the other side of the War? What?"

"No. It's not…it's not either of those things," she reassured him. Pansy leaned on the armrest that she had been bent over a mere minute ago. "It's just that…"

"What?" He demanded.

Pansy smiled softly at his anger. "I'm not used to…liking someone," she finally admitted to herself and to him. "Or, rather, someone liking me back."

Ron looked at her with compassion and closed the distance between them. "Me either," he admitted.

"C'mon, you're Ron Weasley. Every witch wants to be with you."

Ron blushed. "To be honest, I think the only witch that wanted to date me for me was Hermione, and we all know how that ended. All those witches that claim to like me, they just want to be with me because I'm famous now. Back when I was just regular broke Ron Weasley the same women wanted nothing to do with me. Including you," he smirked.

"Well you were a blood traitor…"

Ron frowned.

"Sorry, bad joke."

"Pansy. You're fantastic to be around and amazing in bed. Please don't chuck me to the side like you've done with your other lovers."

"I…"

"Go on a date with me? We can decide after it if we should go on another."

She nodded slowly and allowed a stupid grin to take over her face. "But only because you have a huge dick and I know that you'll put out," she said, wrapping her hands around his neck.

Ron actually sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin for that. For a second there I thought that you were going to say no."

Pansy chuckled. "Where are you going to take me, Mr. Weasley?"

"I think you mean where are you taking me? You're the rich one in this relationship, remember?"

"I know just the place," she responded happily.

**A/N: Two chapters in one day? What can I say, I'm all about that insomnia.**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Muggles and Confessions

Hermione and Draco had been official for over a month. The first series of workshops had all taken place and Hermione was enjoying her time at Hogwarts teaching students. They were surprisingly well-behaved for her, most likely due to her renown as a fierce warrior, for which she was, for once, grateful. Although this also meant that she had several people wanting her autograph after spending her day at the castle. Hermione always talked her way out of these, not wanting to acknowledge her fame. The kids were amazing, surprising her with their insight and questions every week. It made her seriously reconsider her calling in life.

On the home front Hermione was spending a lot of time in Draco's arms. They had gone through a two week period where all that they did was argue over which television program they should watch and then shag through it. Not that Hermione was complaining. He was impressive in bed, after all. Their two week shag frenzy had calmed down a little, and they now spent more time teasing one another or snuggling, or just talking. They had gone on a few more dates, all still in Muggle London in order to avoid the press. Their relationship still wasn't public knowledge, even though _Witch Weekly_ liked to run an article or two from time to time. There had, however, been quite the scandal when Pansy and Ron had publically declared their relationship two weeks after their first date (which, side note, went fantastically; Ron was a bumbling fool, but he did indeed 'put out' as Pansy had said that he would).

Hermione was lying across Draco's chest, having woken up earlier than him. Her head rose and fell with each of his steady breaths. Hermione didn't want to roll out of his luxurious bed, or leave his warmth, but—

"So don't," Draco grumbled.

Hermione jumped slightly, unaware that he had awoken. Draco's unheard of ability to 'hear' her thoughts still hadn't been explained, despite Hermione's extensive research. It was also a tad annoying.

"It's not my fault," he groused.

"I know, I know. I think too loudly. Did I wake you?"

"As much as I love our nights together, being awoken so bloody early on a Saturday is almost not worth it."

Hermione pinched his nipple in retaliation. He shrieked and she laughed. "I have work to do. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione tried to lift herself off of him, but was quickly trapped in place by his arm. "Where do you think you're going? I demand retribution for your behaviour."

Hermione allowed herself to be pinned down by her insufferable boyfriend and be shagged into his heavenly mattress. Afterward Draco spooned her firmly, clearly not wanting to let her go about her day. Draco fell asleep quickly afterward, his hand cupping her breast, head shoved in her tangled mane. She wouldn't understand what he liked about her hair when it was messy, but he definitely seemed to prefer it that way. His soft snores had her falling asleep shortly afterward.

When she awoke again, much later in the morning, she awoke moaning as Draco fingered her to completion. When she had finally calmed down from her shattering orgasm she realised belatedly that their shag fest had never stopped (she also realised that she didn't necessarily want it to).

"Shag fest? Really, Granger?"

Hermione huffed. Of course he had heard that. "Why can't you hear things like how annoying you are or…I don't know, things that aren't as embarrassing."

"Like how much you like it when I'm inside of you?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "You heard that?"

"Just about every time I touch you," he replied, casually trailing his hand up and down her leg as they spooned. "Don't be embarrassed. I feel likewise, you're just incapable of hearing my thoughts."

Hermione was more reassured after hearing that. "Can you tell me more about Muggle London?" she asked tentatively.

"Way to change the topic."

"Is that a no?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, there was that one woman that you kept shagging for years…"

"Don't worry, there was no mutual interest. She was a decent shag and we were both single, wanting no strings attached. It was just that."

"Decent shag?"

"You're much better. The way you move your hips sometimes…Actually it reminds me of…" Draco sat up suddenly. Hermione turned to face him. "You said that you shagged someone a few months after you broke up with Weasley? A Muggle?"

"Yeah. But it couldn't have been you. He wasn't blond. In fact he looked nothing like you." Hermione had already considered the idea when she realised that Draco was as good, if not slightly better than the Muggle that she had that fateful one night stand with all those years ago.

"I wasn't blond."

"What?"

"I wasn't blond. They modified my appearance so that no one could recognise me. I had brown eyes, and brown hair, and my skin was little darker, almost healthy looking."

Hermione paled. "But…" The description he was giving matched her memory of the man.

Draco chuckled realising that, "It couldn't have been you, I would have recognised you."

"I changed my appearance," she admitted quietly.

"You had straight hair, and freckles?"

Hermione nodded.

"You went to the Drunken Huntsman? Chatted me up for a mere thirty minutes, insisted on buying me a drink?"

Hermione nodded again.

"You know I always thought that you looked vaguely like…well you. It was the straight hair that really threw me off… Granger, you were hot!"

"Well that wasn't me, was it?"

"No, in bed. You let me—"

"Yes, I know."

"Does that mean that you've been remembering our shag as the best one night stand you've had? Because, let me tell you, I was getting kind of annoyed of how often you would think about that muggle instead of me while I was touching you."

"I wasn't thinking of him instead, I was just comparing and contrasting your skills…You've gotten better."

"I did have a fuck buddy…and I didn't hear you complaining before. Judging by the amount of condoms we used in that one night, I'd say you were pretty satisfied."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We both know that I was. But saying that you improved isn't the worst thing in the world, you went from magnificent to astounding. Is your ego satisfied now?"

"Yes," he grinned smugly.

"Now that we've discovered the fact that we shagged right after Ron and I broke up, can you tell me more about your year in Muggle London? Maybe I visited your library and never knew!"

Draco sighed. "Fine," and he began listing facts: "I had my own tiny flat. I had to volunteer once a week at this orphanage down the road; it's why I donate to so many of them now. I went out with friends occasionally. My best mates were Harold and Sonia. Sonia worked at the library, Harold was her boyfriend, now husband. They have a son, Jeffery. I went walking a lot to explore the city. I picked you up in a bar. I went to the same bar a few times afterward, hoping to see you there again, but never did before my year was up. I visit Sonia and Harry every few months. I also had the displeasure of experiencing Muggle medicine. I much prefer magic medicine," he said all of this quickly and robotically. "And the whole while you were writing your NEWTs, getting hired, breaking up with Weasley… Anything else of note?"

"Thanks for telling me, Draco. And no, not much else happened that year. Except, I got the most lovely dress from an anony—you're kidding me. It was you, wasn't it? How did you manage that from Muggle London?"

"What was me?" he asked innocently.

"Don't pretend you don't know."

"Don't know what, Granger?"

She grabbed onto his penis tightly. "Don't lie," she threatened.

Draco began to harden underneath her, but did look genuinely terrified. "Granger, think about what you're doing here, we both benefit from my dick."

"Answer me!"

"I don't know—" he yelped as she squeezed him. "Yes. It was me, okay? Now unless you're going to start running your hand up and down, please unhand me."

"How do you know my measurements?"

"It's a charm. The first dress was set to fit you and the measurements were sent to my mother magically so she could get custom tailored dresses for the following years. She's the one who picks the dresses and sends them. She knows that I…how I feel about you. She has since the end of the War."

"I'll have to send her a thank you."

"And me? It was my idea!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and rolled out of bed. "I'm going to have a bath, want to join?"

After a nice hot bubbly bath the couple apparated to Hermione's house to eat. She had a bigger kitchen and a decidedly much better couch for snuggling. So they did just that on said comfy couch and read individually. This was a favourite past time of theirs, just reading their own books in each other's presence, in silence. They held hands comfortably during this.

Hermione jumped when he spoke, so immersed in her book about common magical illnesses and their remedies.

"I have a gift for you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, assuming he was referring to them shagging. "Let me finish this book first, and we really ought to eat dinner first…"

"No we can shag later. And I was really hoping we could go to your office—"

"For the last time we are absolutely _not_ shagging in my office! Honestly."

Draco pouted. "But Hermione, just think of it, every time you sit down to write one of your boring lesson plans for those snot-nosed blighters—" she hit him for that, and he continued as if nothing had happened, "all you'll be able to think about is my head between your legs, and the feeling of me buried deep inside of you."

Hermione was unsurprisingly very turned on from his simple words, and the image that he was painting was quite vivid in her mind.

"I can hear that you like the idea…" he chuckled.

"It's not happening, it's my place of work. Now let me finish reading, then we can make dinner."

"But listen to my present first."

"I thought that was your present."

"It can hardly be a gift if you won't let me give it to you. Next Thursday night we're going to take dance lessons, and for the next twenty Thursdays afterward."

Hermione's face went from annoyed to ecstatic in one second flat. She pounced on Draco, straddling him and attaching her lips to his. When she finally pulled away she was down to only her bra, and her jeans had somehow opened themselves, not that she noticed either of these things.

"Thanks, Draco. Where are we going? What type of dance? You're going to be there, right? How much was it? Let me pay. What time is it going to be at? I'll have to make sure the Gladys keeps my evenings free…" Hermione trailed off, removing herself from his lap and wandering to her bedroom to find her planner.

Draco remained on the couch for a moment, bewildered by her reaction, and upset that she was able to pull away from him so easily. He sighed and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Draco heaved himself to his feet, re-buttoning his shirt. He walked over to her kitchen and began preparing dinner. Hermione wandered in a few minutes later, still completely unaware of her current state of undress, not that Draco particularly minded. She had her massive planner in hand and a Muggle pen.

"Can I get the address?" she asked him.

Draco looked up from chopping garlic. "I'll email you it later. It's in my office."

"Is it a wizarding or Muggle studio?" she asked, hopping up onto her counter.

"Muggle. Like everything we do together."

Hermione put down her planner and looked at him seriously. He didn't notice because he had returned to chopping garlic. "Does it bother you that we only do Muggle things?"

"No."

"I may not be able to hear your thoughts, but I think I can tell when you're lying and when you're not."

"I don't mind that it's Muggle," he paused. "More so that it's _only_ Muggle, all the time. I am a wizard, I would enjoy taking you to a wizarding concert or a museum, or to Diagon Alley…"

Hermione bit her lip. She was unaware that their secret relationship bothered him so much. The tabloids had finally stopped running photos of them together, having given up on their apparent 'fabricated' couple. Hermione was almost a little afraid of going public about their relationship because it would make them so much more real. But she liked what they were doing. She liked being with Draco. She _wanted_ them to be real.

"Right," she decided.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure you've just heard everything that I'm thinking about."

He didn't respond, meaning that he had, and was trying to respect her privacy.

"If we're going to be open about our relationship, we need to make sure that we know everything about one another that the press may dig up and shove in our faces and in our friends' faces. So you need to know about my parents."

Draco walked over to her, abandoning his garlic. He stood between her legs and rested his hands on her thighs. "Hermione, you don't have to—"

"No Draco, I do." She took a deep breath. "During the summer between sixth and seventh year I obliviated my parents so that they would move far away and be safe from Voldemort. Their new identity was Monica and Wendell Wilkins and their life's desire was to become dentists in Australia. And it worked, Draco. It worked really well. Too well." She took another deep breath, not used to talking about them. "They moved to Australia, they started a new office. Things were going really well for them…" A tear rolled down her cheek. "By the time I gathered the courage to go looking for them, a year and a bit after the War, they…" More tears began falling and Draco wiped them away gently.

"Shh, it's okay, Hermione, you don't have to say anymore."

Hermione shook her head and continued. "They were so happy. They had a baby."

Draco stared at her in shock. He pulled her into a hug and rubbed circles on her back soothingly.

"They had a baby," the tears were now streaming down her face. "I couldn't take that away from them. They had neighbours, and friends, and a newborn, and…they were so happy. And the reverse spell isn't guaranteed to work. I had an advanced healer in memory loss come with me and she said that it was a gamble. If I reversed it they might go mental, and even if it worked they'd hate me; I used magic on them against their will. And they were so happy, Draco. I couldn't. I…" Hermione trailed off, her throat becoming thick.

Draco continued to pat her back and murmur sweet nothings into her ear. She tucked her head into his neck and allowed herself to break down for a moment. Hermione pulled herself back together fairly quickly.

"You know what's funny?" she asked sadly.

"What?"

"Your nameless gifts reminded me of me. I send them mail from time to time. Recipes for my dad, knitting patterns for my mom. They don't know who it's from, but I think a small part of them remembers because, well, I spied on them a few times, and they always keep them."

"Of course they still remember you, somewhere in their minds. Who could forget you, Hermione Granger?" Draco kissed her on the cheek and pulled her off the counter. "Let's make dinner, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. It was then that she realised her lack of clothing. "I'm just going to find my jumper."

Draco nodded and went back to chopping garlic.

Once they had eaten Hermione began her interrogation. "Now that you know about my parents, I need to know more about yours."

Draco sighed, but agreed. "As you know, my father went to Azkaban. He died shortly afterward," Draco paused for a moment, his eyes glazing over, "It was during my community service. I didn't find out for a few days after he—after he died," he looked livid about this fact. "My mother didn't take it well. She…got sick. Well, she stopped eating almost entirely. One day while she was wandering through our catacombs she must have brushed up against something because she became deathly ill. She didn't go to a Healer for a long time, thinking it just a cold…By the time I got out of Muggle London I had to nurse her back to health myself, because the Healers had refused to help her."

"Draco, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine now, she's alive, but she and I decided to get rid of the Manor. It was full of cursed things, poisons, torture devices, and terrible memories. I gave the Ministry free license to roam the place and burnt it to the ground once they had emptied it. My mother moved to France back to her family home, well, mansion. I didn't want to leave Britain, I felt as if I owed too much here, so I decided to start a business, which was less hard than I was expecting considering my family name. It was fairly rough for the first two years, but as you know, things are doing well now."

"I'm going to write a letter to St. Mungo's."

"No, you're not. They've already apologised. It was right after the War. People were angry, as they had every right to be. The end."

Hermione's eye twitched in disagreeance.

"Please, just let it go, Hermione."

She narrowed her eyes. "Only if you tell me how you saved Isabel's life."

Draco huffed. "Why does it matter?"

"Because it makes you a hero."

"Don't call me that."

"Well, you saved someone's life, I think that it's an accurate description."

"I didn't even do anything, she did it all herself. I just had good timing."

"Then tell me."

"She was being…accosted by some scum in an alley near her restaurant. I happened to hear the altercation. I walked into the alley, asked what was going on and distracted the piece of trash. She knows some sort of self defense because he was flat on his back in the blink of an eye. All she had needed was a distraction, and I happened to be one."

Hermione stared at him intensely. She stood, walked around her dining room table, pulled him to his feet and smashed their faces together. They stumbled their way to the couch and Hermione's jumper had mysteriously vanished again. Hermione pushed Draco onto the sofa and straddled him quickly.

"You're a good person, Draco Malfoy. And I'm proud to be your girlfriend."

"I'm not a good person."

"Maybe you weren't, when we were younger. And you're still a right prat. But I think your soul has always been pure. You're the kind of guy who doesn't walk by when someone's screaming for help. Even when you don't have a wand. And that, that's the hottest thing about you."

Hermione brought their lips together in a passionate kiss before he could counter anything that she had to say. She proceeded to get on her knees, pull out his hard dick, and take it into her mouth. She had only given him a blowjob a handful of times, so to say he was surprised by her actions would be an understatement. She gripped him with her hand while her mouth slid up and down. She had never finished him with a blow job alone, seeing as Draco liked to come buried to the hilt inside of her. That time was no different; he pulled her to her feet and disappeared her pants and knickers with a swish of his wand. He likewise disappeared the remainder of his clothing, then pulled Hermione on top of him. He slid into her wet core, causing them both to moan. Hermione paused when he was fully inside of her to kiss him deeply, then she pulled away and rode him slowly, looking deep into his eyes the whole time. Each gentle rock of her hips had Draco cursing lowly. His hands gripped her hips. Hermione leaned back slightly in order to allow him to fill her deeper. Draco's head fell forward to suck on her nipple. Hermione loved when he did that. She captured one of his hands in hers and held it fiercely. Draco pressed their lips together and Hermione sped up her rocking hips. She loved how he knew exactly what she wanted almost before she even knew that she wanted it. Their kiss was broken up by their moans and a few thrusts later both of them climaxed.

As Hermione calmed down she rested her head against his neck, feeling entirely satisfied and complete. Draco's arms pulled her into a hug and he was kissing her neck languidly. God she loved hi—she forced herself to stop thinking so loudly, afraid that he might be listening, and instead focused on the feeling of his hot lips on her neck. When they had both calmed down Hermione led him to her bedroom, and lay on his pale chest.

"I love the way our skin contrasts," she said.

"Me too," he agreed, playing with her frizzy hair. "You know what I found weird?"

"Hmm?"

"In the wizarding world we have discrimination, right?" Hermione tensed somewhat as Draco continued, "But, I don't know why it surprised me, but it did—I just assumed that Muggles didn't have that. But I did a lot of reading at the library, as you know…and, well they were just as bloody bad as us, if not worse!"

Hermione sat up off of him, feeling that this conversation needed to happen sitting up.

"I don't think it makes us any better than them," he reassured her, "I just think it shows the bad side of humanity, and the fact that even Muggles can be as evil as the evilest wizards. It really cemented my belief that we're not that different…is that weird?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. Everyone has the potential to be good and bad, no matter their magical aptitudes."

"And when I read about the fact that people were segregated just because of their skin colour, it didn't make sense. They had no choice over it, they were born that way. I guess I was just never raised with that type of discrimination, and it really made me realise the absurdity of purebloods and muggleborns and halfbloods. None of us had a choice of what we were born into, and it didn't change the fact that we're all human."

Hermione was almost moved to tears by his speech. "I'm so happy you're my boyfriend."

"And I just think it's so weird that some Muggles might find it odd that we're dating because of your skin. You are downright gorgeous and I love your hair—"

"He finally admits it," she commented under her breath.

"Hermione, I just want you know that I'm not going to be racist toward you—"

"Draco, I know you won't be. Very few wizards are racist in the Muggle sense of the word. The only ones that I've encountered are Muggleborn. And I just didn't get it; they're from an oppressed group, but they oppressed others…" Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"Humans are fucked up, Hermione."

"I know."

"Hold on a second, did you say that you've encountered racist muggleborns? Who was racist to you?" he demanded darkly, and began searching for his wand.

"Don't worry. I already taught them a lesson."

"What hex did you use?"

"See this is what I'm trying to prove with Know Your Prejudice; hate begets hate, and knowledge is what breaks the cycle of ignorance. I literally taught them a lesson about prejudice and discrimination and made them see how what they were saying was the same as what racist purebloods were doing to them."

"That's great and all, but what hex did you use?"

Hermione huffed. "You're not seeing my point!"

"Then stop lying."

She narrowed her eyes, but disclosed, "They may have been frozen in place when I taught them the lesson so that I knew that they would listen…"

"Knew it."

"Can you please pay attention to what I'm trying to prove here?"

"You're right, hate does beget hate. This is why you're a better person than me," he admitted.

"We'll work on that."

Draco pulled her back into a laying position on his chest. "No guarantees."

"You're a much better person than you pretend to not be. I know that you would have done the same thing in my position, nowadays at least. You might rough them up a bit, but you'd lay some knowledge on them too."

Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't disagree. "Go to sleep."

Hermione grumbled, but was sleeping a few seconds later, apparently much more tired than she knew.

-x-

For two weeks Hermione was practically avoiding Draco for fear that he might overhear her thoughts, more specifically, the ones that were very incriminating about the strong feelings that she was harbouring for her boyfriend. She was subsequently researching a way for her to be able to stop his annoying capability. She supposed that if she looked more into occlumency it might work, but it was something odd about her, because he wasn't intentionally reading her thoughts, he was hearing them. The mystery stumped her, and she continued her fruitless research.

Because she was avoiding him, Draco was trying more than ever to corner her and figure out why she was avoiding him, which of course she denied at every turn. Luckily for her, their relationship was still 'secret', so he mostly sent her a million emails a day, and complained when she said she wanted to spend the night alone. This was taking a toll on both of them; they were both having restless nights, and Hermione was having very bad dreams. Not only this, but they had done nothing more than snog during those two weeks, twice, and twice only; once each time they went exploring a new Muggle library (Hermione really had no control over herself when he was surrounded by literature). So add sexual to the frustrations pile.

For this reason, Hermione was sitting on her couch at home, alone, drinking tea and planning her lessons for that week. A loud knock almost made her spill her tea. Someone had knocked on her door exactly three times, once to introduce themselves, once to borrow sugar, and once to let her know that they were moving out. She was usually with anyone else who might be coming by to visit. Hermione stood slowly, very confused. Her wand was hidden up her sleeve, just in case. She cautiously peered through her peep hole and sighed in relief; it was Draco. She opened her door with a smile.

"Hey."

"Hermione, I'm sorry." She then realised how miserable he looked.

She frowned, and pulled him into a hug. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong?" he pulled away and began pacing in front of her. "You won't talk to me. I've been trying to figure out what it is that I did, but I can't figure it out. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. Or at least tell me what I did so that I can make it right."

"You've done nothing wrong. Like I told you, I'm swamped at work," she felt bad for lying and avoiding him, but was fairly proud of her ability to pull that lie off.

Draco smiled in relief. "You're not—you're not angry at me?"

"No."

"Well, shit Granger. Don't do that to me!" he reproached, but was smiling widely.

Hermione wanted to laugh at his sudden chipper attitude. Draco let himself into her flat and closed the door. He sat on the couch and began patting Crookshanks happily. Hermione eyed him warily, afraid that her pesky thoughts would bust through the surface when he looked so damn adorable petting her cat.

"You missed me, didn't you Crookshanks," he cooed.

Hermione needed a recording of him acting like a fool with her cat. He brought his nose down to Crookshanks and the cat licked it before purring louder than a lawnmower. Draco pulled his head away from the cat and looked at her. The ridiculous face he had been making dropped away.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I do not look adorable," he sulked, clearly having heard that thought.

"Really, cause you're cuddling my cat," she countered.

Draco lifted Crookshanks off of him and placed him back on his spot on the couch. He sauntered over to her and brought her into a fierce kiss. He pulled away to say, "I am not adorable, the only adjectives that you're allowed to think of in combination with my person are: sexy, hot, handsome, manly, powerful, mine."

Hermione laughed. "Make me."

Draco pulled her into the bathroom and had her undressed and in the shower, moaning in less than a minute, it was actually quite impressive. They both didn't last very long; their two week separation had clearly taken a toll on their libidos. When they finished they dried each other off. Hermione sat on her bathroom countertop stark naked with an equally undressed Draco standing between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs nonchalantly.

"Let's never go two weeks without sleeping together again," Draco vowed.

"Well you're going to have to deal with five day breaks when I get my period."

"That's different, I can at least cuddle you and give you back massages to help with the pain."

Hermione tilted her head in wonder. "I love you," she breathed. She tensed as did Draco, upon the realisation of her haphazardly thrown about declaration. "I—uh…"

"I love you," he replied simply, staring into her eyes.

Hermione began grinning like an idiot. Draco even had a goofy grin on his face (very similar to the one he got when he looked at her old cat).

"So I guess we're going public then?"

"Yes," he agreed. "There's no need for a press conference or anything, let's just go out for ice cream tomorrow? I'll finally be able to show off my amazing girlfriend."

Hermione flushed happily. "I like that idea."

Draco was suddenly serious. "You know that you're the only woman I've ever loved? I've loved you since sixth grade, I just couldn't admit it to myself. I don't expect you to have a similar declaration, I know you loved Ron when you were dating. And don't feel guilty. But you're mine now."

"I'm yours? Okay, Mr. Caveman, sir," she joked to try a lighten the conversation; that was quite the love declaration.

"And I'm yours. You said it yourself, you love me. Actually, maybe say it again, just so that I can cement it in my brain."

Hermione smack his muscled shoulder. "Did you actually love me back in school?"

"I'm not saying it twice, woman."

"Your caveman is showing," she teased. "Then why didn't you talk to me after you came back from Muggle London? You waited five years."

"You seemed happy, successful, and I'm an ex-Death Eater who was lucky enough to get a hand in your pants back in school. Why would you want to talk to me? Besides, there was never the occasion."

"I would have spoken to you," she defended.

"Fresh out of the War? I highly doubt it, even you aren't that forgiving."

"Draco, I've been on your side all along, I defended you for years."

"Maybe I was worried that you had moved on…" he admitted quietly.

Hermione flexed her hips slightly. "I clearly hadn't. So we would've probably never spoken again if I hadn't fallen into your arms at the Yule Ball…" Hermione mused.

"For which I thank Merlin every day. So this is why you've been avoiding me?"

Hermione blushed. "I thought you might overhear one of my errant thoughts and I wanted to, well, be sure before I said anything."

"Two weeks, woman. _Two weeks_. Just because you didn't want me to overhear that you love me. It felt like an eternity being away from you."

This made Hermione happy. "Eternity?"

Draco blushed slightly. "It was just an unnecessary separation."

"Well we're together again. And, guess what? This means that you're finally coming to a Weasley Sunday."

"Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yes. Because you love me, and therefore must do as I say."

"I don't think it works that way, Granger."

"Yes it does."

"Then you have to give me something in return."

Hermione pecked him on the lips, then stood. "Oh, I will…Let's go to bed. You can wake me when you're ready for round two."

Draco took her proffered hand and trailed after her into her bedroom. "But I don't have to be nice to Weasley."

"Yes you do, to all of them."

Draco grumbled in protest, but Hermione ignored him, an ecstatic smile on her face; he loved her.

"Yes, I do," Draco agreed aloud, snuggling into her.

**A/N: One more chapter, although it needs mad editing so it may be a while...You all rock.**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: The Next Seven months and the Following Seven Years

Draco was whining, and Hermione had had enough.

"We're going together, and that's that!" she said sternly. "Stop pouting!" she ordered, wanting to pull her hair out in frustration. "You're literally worse than the third years that I teach," she grumbled.

Draco continued to pout from his place on the couch. Crookshanks sat in his lap. "But I can't leave, Crookshanks is here, I wouldn't want to disturb him."

Hermione's right eye twitched. "You either come to the Burrow with me right now, or we're not having sex for a month," she threatened.

Draco eyed her, clearly not believing her. "You'd cave first."

"Try me. I went a year without sex. How long did you go before we starting seeing each other? I bet you were shacking up with what's her name the day before the Yule Ball."

Draco looked more concerned now. "Well I went over a month dry, when we starting talking again," he countered.

"Except that it wasn't completely 'dry', there was sexual interactions even if it wasn't sex," she threw back at him.

Draco muttered under his breath.

"What was that? Agreeing that I'm right? Good idea. Now let's go."

"You won't be able to last two months without touching me," he said cockily, apparently trying to save the situation with some false bravado.

"Oh? I won't?" she snarked. "You lived in Muggle London, Malfoy. I'm sure you heard about a certain Muggle toy that women with idiotic boyfriends possess?"

Draco knew that the tide had changed, and not in his favour. "You would…get bored of it," he hazarded weakly.

"A full _year_, Draco. Two months will fly by with in comparison."

Draco went back to pouting.

"Now you have until the count of ten to get your pale arse over here or we're not even sleeping in the same room for two months."

"Two months?!"

"Ten."

"But—Granger. You can't—"

"Eight."

"Now you're skipping numbers!"

"THREE!"

"You're not allowed to skip numbers!" he shouted, shoving her cat off of his lap.

"ONE!" Hermione shouted.

Draco had bounded to her side by this point. "I'm here! Stop counting for the love of all things magical!"

Hermione smirked triumphantly. "Perfect. Shall we descend to the alleyway? I'll sidealong you from there."

Draco didn't respond, but did link her arm in his and open her flat door. A moment later they were squished into oblivion before reappearing outside the Burrow. Hermione looked at it happily. They walked through the wards easily, seeing as Hermione knew how to unward the place, and entered the crooked house through the kitchen. Draco was muttering about the chickens and seeing garden gnomes wandering about. Hermione ignored him, genuinely surprised that her very much false threat of no sex had turn worked out for her.

"YOU WERE FAKING IT?" Draco demanded loudly as soon as they had crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

George was standing inside looking like he had been about to steal a cookie from the jar above the fridge. There were several boiling pots, and carrots, onions and garlic were cutting themselves. George turned and grinned at Hermione and Draco.

"Every woman fakes it at least once, mate. They key is finding her cl—"

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed while walking back into the kitchen. George had the decency to look embarrassed. Hermione was flushing furiously, and even Draco had a blush on his cheeks. Mrs. Weasley smacked his wrist and reprimanded him, "I said no cookies until dessert. Go fetch the table cloths for me." Mrs. Weasley was as observant and all-knowing as ever. Hermione noticed, with a start that she was starting to look rather old. Almost all of her hair was grey, she had wrinkles…

Hermione didn't know what Mrs. Weasley had heard, but accepted her hug happily and decided to pretend that George was not just about to say what he was about to say. Mrs. Weasley surprised them all by dragging Draco into a hug as well.

"The boys and Ginny are in the living room. Ginny's not feeling too well. I think it'll be any day now. She's already a week behind schedule…" Mrs. Weasley tsked.

Hermione was well aware of this because Ginny did nothing but complain about how unbearably heavy she was. Hermione had been so preoccupied with her relationship with Draco that she had not been the best of friends during Ginny's last month of pregnancy. Hermione felt bad and decided to make sure to get Ginny anything that she wanted after the birth, and spoil her child insanely.

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Weasley," Draco said politely.

"Of course," she said with the wave of a hand. "Was never a fan of your father, but you seem to be turning out better than him. Go on now, they're waiting," she shooed them out of the kitchen.

Hermione linked her hand with Draco's and smiled at him encouragingly before pulling him into the ever-messy and haphazard living room. Ginny was lying on one couch looking somewhat like a beached whale (Ginny had described herself as such when she realised that she couldn't lift herself off the couch alone). Harry was sitting on the ground in front of her, holding her hand. Ron sat on the other couch with—Hermione was shocked—Pansy sitting beside him casually, her legs tucked under her body. The four of them were laughing at something that Ginny had said as Hermione and Draco approached with incredulous expressions.

Hermione was momentarily blinded as Ron took a photo of them, he had been hiding the camera behind him waiting for this moment, they had even planned the laughing session when George had given them the heads up that the infamous couple was there.

Draco scrunched up his face in annoyance. "Give me that camera, Weasley!"

"I don't have a camera," Ginny responded.

"No—not you."

"I'm also cameraless," George said as he walked into the living room with a large blue table cloth in his arms.

"You may want to be a tad more specific, Dray, there's a lot of Weasleys here," Pansy said unhelpfully.

Draco scowled. "I'm leaving," he grumbled turning around.

"Two months," Hermione threatened to his back.

Draco stopped and literally growled. "You're evil, woman," he muttered, but turned around and tromped over to Pansy where he sat down in all his angry and graceful glory.

Hermione smiled brightly and sat on the floor beside Harry. She rubbed Ginny's enormous belly before turning around to face her friends and boyfriend.

"So…" Pansy said into the silence.

"I swear to Circe, if I don't give birth in the next 20 hours I'm going to kill someone," Ginny groaned.

Harry patted her hand reassuringly. "We're going to the hospital tomorrow morning."

"Not soon enough," she bemoaned.

Hermione smiled at Ginny's antics. "Did you hear that I'm taking dance lessons?" she gushed.

Ginny smacked her shoulder. "You are! You never tell me anything anymore, you're too busy shagging your bloody boyfriend to care that one of your best friend's is about to have two babies! AT ONCE."

"I'm sorry—" Hermione started to apologise.

"I know you're sorry. I'm just jealous because I'm so damn h—"

"HI MOM!" Ron said very loudly, cutting off Ginny.

All of the heads in the room snapped to Mrs. Weasley who was busy stirring something in a mixing bowl. "Can you get your brothers and father from the shed, Ron? I sent George out ten minutes ago and he still isn't back. Dinner is ready in five minutes. Oh, and Harry and Hermione, dears, can you set the table?" she walked back into the kitchen.

"You mom really has a knack for walking into conversations that she'd rather not hear…" Draco commented, to the surprise of everyone. Also to the surprise of everyone, the group chuckled.

Hermione stood and walked over to Draco as Ron and Harry headed into the kitchen. Hermione glanced back to make sure that the boys weren't looking and kissed him quickly. "Wait here, Mrs. Weasley won't allow guests to serve food."

Pansy and Ginny were eyeing the couple with interest, not having actually seen them together that often.

"Okay," Draco responded, but his hand in hers was restricting her from leaving him.

"It'll get better, don't worry," she reassured him.

Draco reluctantly let her hand fall and watched her walk away. Pansy and Ginny were still staring at him.

"You got it bad," Pansy teased.

Draco rolled his eyes in response.

"Malfoy, listen to me. You need to teach Hermione how to glamour her neck properly, since it's you that keeps leaving all those marks there. Seriously, her charms are so feeble I could—" Ginny cut herself off to frown down at her stomach. She shrugged and continued, "False alarm. Anyway the point is—" Ginny clutched her stomach in pain. "Not a false alarm!" she corrected then proceeded to groan loudly.

Draco and Pansy looked at one another, completely unprepared to deal with this. Luckily Harry was back by Ginny's side in a flash, massaging her hand soothingly. "We need to count how long between contractions," he was saying reassuringly.

Pansy and Draco shared equally stricken looks as Harry brought out a pocket watch and Hermione came jogging into the room with Mrs. Weasley hot on her tail. Ginny was moaning in pain again.

"We need to call St. Mungo's," Harry concluded calmly, one hand clutched around his pocket watch, the other being crushed to pieces by his wife.

"On it," Ron stated from the kitchen doorway. He made his way over to the floo and stuck his head in calling the emergency floo at St. Mungo's.

Hermione went running back into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with water and clean rags. She set them down on the coffee table just as the Mediwitch strode through the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley was pacing the living room in excitement, yelling for her husband.

"If you please, I need you all to leave the room, except the husband," the mediwitch said calmly, opening her healer's bag and pulling out a large concoction of potions.

"Let's go to the kitchen," Mrs. Weasley suggested, then she shouted, "ARTHUR WHERE ARE YOU? YOUR ONLY DAUGHTER IS GOING INTO LABOUR! ARE YOU TOO BUSY PLAYING WITH MUGGLE TRINKETS TO CARE! WHY DID YOU RETIRE IF NOT TO SEE YOUR GRANDCHILDREN?"

Hermione ushered Mrs. Weasley out of the living room and cast a silencing charm once everyone was away from Ginny. Mrs. Weasley refused to let them eat dinner because she _knew_ that Ginny would want to eat with them and would be overly upset if they ate without her, much to everyone's annoyance (Mrs. Weasley was, however, quite correct, Ginny would have been furious; she was busy giving birth so they got to eat to their heart's content?). George ended up finding an old deck of cards and they played a few card games while they waited.

Draco became a little more at ease during the card games, but was still very clearly uncomfortable. Hermione doubted that he would ever be close friends with the Weasleys or Harry, but she hoped that she could get them past casual acquaintances who spent seven years venomously hating one another. Judging by the way Ron was not taking jabs at Draco and Draco was actually using his first name, Hermione was hopeful. Pansy was a nice addition to the group; she was a lot more fun than Hermione thought that she was.

The Mediwitch came into the kitchen a little over an hour later beaming. "I'm proud to say that Ginny and both babies are alive and well. You can come see them now. Ginny will be a little out of it, but she was requesting dinner."

Mrs. Weasley glared at them all in a 'I told you so' kind of way. Hermione rushed back to meet her new godchildren. Ginny was an exhausted mess, and Harry was crying joyously, one baby in his arms, the other in Ginny's. Hermione knew then and there that she wanted to be a mother. She looked over at Draco, and if she wasn't mistaken, he was feeling the same way. They reached for each other's hand without looking, soaking in the moment.

The mediwitch stayed a little longer to go over some of the newborn care rules before promising to return the following day. Ginny then insisted in a very tired voice, that dinner be served to her. The Weasley Clan, Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Hermione all crowded into the living room and ate around the sleeping babies and happy new parents.

By the time Draco finally succeeded in removing Hermione from the babies it was almost midnight.

"We have to come back tomorrow with a million gifts!" Hermione exclaimed as they walked toward the end of the wards.

Draco rolled his eyes, but internally agreed. "Granger, you're obsessed with those babies."

"They're so cute!" she shouted. "Besides, you seemed fairly fond of them yourself."

Draco didn't respond to this. "Let's just go back to mine, I'm tired."

"I need to pick up some clothes from my flat first."

"You could always…you know, bring some stuff to keep at my place."

Hermione responded, "Sure, but then you need to bring some stuff to mine. You may have the better bed, but I have the better couch, and the cat."

"We'll spend the night there tomorrow, after we go shopping and spoil your godchildren."

Hermione pecked him on the lips. "This is why I love you."

"I only love you because you're wicked good in bed." Hermione smacked him. Draco wrapped his arms around her waist. "And of course because you're overall amazing," he amended before apparating them to the alley beside Hermione's flat.

-x-

A few weeks later, after coming out about their relationship to the public (they were hounded by reporters until Hermione finally publically threatened to have all of them fired and extend their mandatory sessions with the Ministry. They backed off a lot after that, but Hermione and Draco being Hermione and Draco, they were still in the papers more often than they would have liked.) Hermione was reading on her couch, Draco's head in her lap as he napped, Crookshanks on his chest.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, waking Draco.

"Huh?" he asked groggily.

"It's our auras. It says here that people with strongly compatible auras can sometimes read each other's thoughts, involuntarily. It even happens to Muggles. I always thought it was a load of rubbish, but it's the only thing that makes sense. It's like when your best friend knows exactly what you're thinking or when a parent senses that their child is in danger."

"Mhm," Draco replied, trying to fall back asleep.

"Listen! It's important."

"Granger, I'm sleeping."

"This means that we're really compatible Draco. On an elemental level."

"Yeah, great. How do you stop me from hearing how adorable you think I am?" he asked with his eyes still firmly closed.

"It doesn't say…" she responded, not even bothering to deny it, "but I've been thinking…could you teach me occlumency? I think that it will work, because I'm just thinking too loudly. I would like to at least be able to keep some of my thoughts to myself."

Draco considered this for a moment, in fact she thought that he had fallen back asleep until he replied. "Fine. It should help with your nightmares too. But if you're terrible at it you need to find another teacher."

Hermione hadn't thought of that as an aid for her nightmares. They weren't as bad as they used to be, but whenever she slept alone now they came back to haunt her. She wasn't even aware that Draco knew she was having trouble sleeping—but of course he did, he could hear her thoughts. Hermione decided to ignore the nightmares comment, not wanting to think about them, and responded: "I'm an excellent pupil."

"Yeah, yeah, best witch of your year or some bullocks, now let me sleep. I was having a good dream."

Hermione ignored his grumpiness and instead played with his hair to lull him back to sleep. She continued reading her book for any more clues. She was looking forward to learning to be an occlumens, but she didn't think that she would be the best one. She glanced down at Draco to see that he was smiling widely in his sleep. Little did she know that he was dreaming of a large home full of happy children, and a wife with big bushy hair.

-x-

The week before the end of the Hogwarts school year, and the end of Hermione's classes that she was teaching there, Draco surprised her by visiting the castle with a pompously large bouquet of flowers and meeting her at the staff room. Several students whispered at his presence, but none approached him. The Malfoy name did command a certain amount of fear. When he found her there he insisted that they visit the study room, for old time's sake. And so they did. They found it a little dusty from disuse, but otherwise very much the same. The fact that it was empty simultaneously made Hermione happy and sad; she loved that that place was only hers and Draco's, but she hated that no one was going to profit from it in the future. Hermione should have known that Draco was up to something because in a matter of minutes they were shagging on the study table. Suffice it to say that the library (or rather the study room) was silent no more.

-x-

Hermione and Draco crashed in through her flat door, kissing heatedly. It had been seven months since the birth of Sirius and Fred. Hermione and Draco were returning from their dance lessons together. It was their last one, and they had finally mastered this one rather sexy dance that always riled Hermione up. So there they were, shoving their tongues down one another's throat when Hermione realised that something was wrong; Crookshanks hadn't come to pester Draco (as he did now whenever the blond came to visit. The cat wouldn't leave Draco alone until he had pet him and cooed nonsense into his orange ear). This usually cut their snogs short, but Hermione noted that this one had been going for rather long. She pulled away from him and looked around, a feeling of dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

She found him a minute later, curled up by his food bowl, looking as if he had decided to take a nap, but very clearly not breathing. Hermione collapsed shortly afterward, hot tears overwhelming her. Were it not for Draco's comforting arms pulling her away, she would probably have cried herself to sleep beside her dead cat.

Hermione cried for what felt like hours, pressed against Draco who rocked her back and forth reassuringly.

Draco brought Hermione to the Forest of Dean where she buried Crookshanks. The blond wouldn't admit it, but he shed a few tears as well.

After this Draco more or less moved in with Hermione, he even brought his bed, complaining that hers hurt his back. She hated the emptiness of her flat without Crookshanks and was very grateful for Draco's presence in her life.

-x-

That Christmas Hermione met Narcissa officially and the woman took her shopping for her annual dress. Hermione was very nervous about trying to impress the woman, but after spending five minutes in her presence, it was clear that Narcissa was a harmless snob, forced into blood prejudice from a young age, but never fully wanting to be part of it. Narcissa was also quiet, and didn't feel the need to fill a silence, for which Hermione was grateful.

The happy couple went to the Yule Ball together that year, causing a bit of a stir with seating arrangements; their party had to sit at a twenty person table, it was a little excessive (like the entire Ball). Hermione and Draco spent most of the night flaunting their superior dance moves and not so covertly stealing chocolate cake. Little did they know that Pansy had taken Ron to the chocolate cake place for their first date, and the red head would have easily told them where it was if questioned. However, everyone always underestimated him, except maybe Pansy, and neither Draco nor Hermione asked him. So it was that they would spend the rest of their lives wondering about the origins of the deliciousness, never to know that it came from a Muggle place just down the road from the first library that Draco had taken Hermione to so many months before.

Hermione's workshop series was a huge success, big surprise. Theo was right, not everyone left learning new things or with new perspectives, but the large majority of people did. Hermione was proud to say that the people who changed and learned the most were the Hogwarts students who she had taught. Draco noticed that by Christmas his sales had gone up even more and less people glared at him as time went on. Not that he ever expected total forgiveness, nor would that be a realistic desire.

At dinner before the (now annual) New Year's Eve party, Draco proposed to Hermione. It was a surprisingly simple proposal; he made her dinner and got down on one knee after dessert. She happily accepted his proposal and elaborate engagement ring (he had charmed it so that it smelled of cake, _the _cake). Their wedding was a year and a half later. Leading up to it they bought a house near the ocean with several empty bedrooms. It went unspoken that these rooms would be filled with little Granger-Malfoys. Draco also bought them a cat. This one was much more cat-like and less kneazle than Crookshanks had been, but Xavier was a sweetheart and the only person who loved him more than Hermione was Draco. It wasn't until after their two week (and unnecessarily extravagant) honeymoon to Venice that Hermione got pregnant. More accurately, it wasn't until Draco came to visit her the day after her honeymoon in her office where he had promptly had his way with her in as many locations in the room as possible (especially the desk). He had been right; she was unable to concentrate of her work for a week afterward, thoughts of their torrid afternoon making her eyes glaze over for minutes at a time. She even aired out her office, convinced that it smelled strongly of sex and him. Gladys' knowing looks were too much to handle.

Their first child was a girl, they named her Rose, Hermione's mother's middle name. The second, Scorpius, was named after a constellation, a Malfoy tradition. Hermione insisted that both children's last names be hyphenated, to which Draco obliged, because he was just happy enough to be with Hermione and decided not to push his luck. Plus it was a new generation of Malfoys, why not mix it up a little?

Pansy and Ron didn't marry, but Ron did move into Pansy's house. They had five children, including two female twins (twins really ran in the family). Their relationship was surprisingly strong, perhaps due to the fact that Pansy wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and Ron unwittingly revealed what he was thinking most of the time. Pansy proved to be an impressive working mother, planning the biggest events in the wizarding world and raising children as if it were all a piece of delicious mouth-watering chocolate cake. Ron decided to leave his job at the Ministry when their first child arrived, he wanted to be in a less dangerous field of work, and have less hours in order to support his family. Luckily George (recently hitched with Angelina) had the same desires and invited Ron to work with him at the joke shop.

Hermione and Pansy ended up being accidental friends, although Ron and Draco never really hit it off the same way. It was to be expected; their personalities were too different. Draco and Harry were able to have a full conversation without insulting one another or sitting in awkward silence, which Ron and Draco still hadn't gotten to.

Harry had advanced to Head Auror and was juggling work and parenthood amazingly. He really was meant to be a father. Ginny, for her part, had sworn that she would never have kids again after her twin birth, but ended up having one more two years later, a girl, Jane. After which she had no more children. Instead she got back in shape and took on the role of captain of the Holyhead Harpies (free tickets all season!).

In other news, Hermione successfully integrated the telephone and computer into wizarding society, using her partnership with the Japanese wizarding society to do so. All major businesses and the entire Ministry had them by the time Scorpius was born, which was a major achievement considering how many people were opposed to it, just because it meant having to learn how to work them. Now even mobile phones could be found in the Auror department.

-x-

Hermione sat on her porch watching Rose stumble around the garden with Draco. She was asking him a million questions a minute with all the ferocity of a curious toddler. Rose had a head full of blond curls, slightly lighter skin than Hermione, and Draco's grey eyes. Hermione held Scorpius in her arms, he was only six months old, and he was beautiful. His hair was also blond (which made Draco gloat far too often) and curly, his eyes, however were dark dark brown, almost black. Hermione peppered his face with kisses.

Rose ran up to them and kissed Scorpius on the forehead. "I'm going to be the bestest big sister," she said proudly.

Draco, who was standing behind her, patted her on the head. "Yes you are, sweetheart."

Rose took off into the garden again, but Draco sat down beside Hermione on their swinging bench. He gently took Scorpius into his arms. Hermione loved watching him interact with their children; he was always instantly happy and loving. His face wrinkled in that way that made her heart skip a beat and made her want to do anything to keep that smile from disappearing.

"Draco?"

"Yes, love?" he asked without removing his eyes from his son.

"I love you."

"I love you too, but you're on baby duty today, I had yesterday," he said matter-of-factly, and handed her Scorpius.

Hermione huffed. "What if I just wanted to say 'I love you'?"

"I know your games."

Hermione held back her laugh as she realised that Scorpius had fallen asleep. Draco stepped off the porch to go chase Rose. She stopped him with a whispered "Draco."

"Mother of our children?"

Hermione glowed at his comment. "I do love you."

"And I do love you. Now can it before you wake up Mr. Cry baby," Draco said sweetly. He proceeded to chase Rose around the garden and teach her facts about the plants that grew there.

Hermione had a moment where she felt dizzy for no particular reason at all. Then she suddenly felt nauseous. She placed a hand on her lower abdomen trying to count back the days since her last period and the last time that she and Draco had shagged(it may or may not have been in her office, and if they had used the contraception charm…

Hermione's eyes widened: she was going to kill Draco.

The End

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There you have it. Thanks for the follows, favs, and reviews. I wanted to abandon this story in the middle 'cause I lost a lot of inspiration, but you all made me want to keep writing, so kudos to you! I considered making this longer, but I was worried I would get bored of it and then never finish it, so sorry if there are a few unexplored plot points or if you wanted more, but I figured a finished story is better than an unfinished one...  
>Anywhosers, I have an idea for my next story already (the reason I wanted to abandon this one), but it probably won't be up for a few months. <strong>

**Keep it real internet.**

**xoxo**


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